Welcome to the Tragic Kingdom
by Aquarian Wolf
Summary: When a classic attraction is set to be demolished, Walt Disney World's most beloved Characters and a crew of cynical castmembers start a crusade to save it.
1. Progress

A/N: Disney owns all of the characters and places mentioned in this story, with the exception of a few certain people that will come into play later.

This story owes part of its origin to the No Doubt song, "Tragic Kingdom." I recommend it to any Disney fan. It's very chilling, and echoes the frustrations Disney fans feel. The story was also inspired by a petition that was going around online not long ago to save the attraction mentioned here.

This is a work in progress, more of an experiment really. Reviews are very much appreciated and I hope everyone who reads this finds it entertaining.

Oh, and the apple joke was a gag WerecatBoy and I came up with a short time ago. We had two different versions of it, and thought both were too funny not to use. His riff on it can be found in his story "Life With a Sleeping Beauty."

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**Welcome to the Tragic Kingdom**

A thin veil of fog rolled over the stone pathway of Liberty Square, creating the perfect atmosphere for the colonial village. Soon, the smell of cooking fish would waft out of the Columbia Harbor House, the Haunted Mansion would open its gates, and the Hall of Presidents would introduce guests to the leaders of the free world. All was a hue of blue in the pre sunrise light. Those who had worked the nightshift, painters and sweepers, had gone home, and the morning crew had yet to arrive.

It was that brief, magical time in Walt Disney World's Magic Kingdom when all was peaceful and quiet, without a soul around.

"Giddy-up, boy!"

Not your average human soul, anyway.

A black hearse buggy leisurely rolled out onto the street, past the toppled birdbath surrounded by roses in front of the Mansion, and through the iron gates and by the brick columns. Clip-clop, clip-clop went the horse's hooves along an all too familiar path. The driver, a wiry, transparent and blue man in a top hat and long coat, flicked the reins, urging an invisible horse onward.

Beside the driver sat a slender man, wearing a dark gray tuxedo with a blue bow tie. His dark brown hair was combed to the side neatly. Sideburns went down to his cheekbones, but those usually went unnoticed thanks to piercing bright blue eyes. He had a much healthier complexion than the coachman. He actually looked alive.

The truth was though, both were dead, and yet, had never been living, breathing men.

A closer look at the two revealed that they didn't look exactly real. Something about their features was exaggerated slightly. The coachman's eyes were too big, for example. But it was the suit-wearing gentleman who was the more visually interesting one. Although he had a realistic skin tone, he was the least human looking of the two. To be blunt, he looked like a cartoon character, albeit a very well drawn one who had been painted with oils.

Any fan of The Haunted Mansion would have recognized him instantly.

This man was Master George Gracey, the gentleman seen in the morphing portrait above the foyer's fireplace. He was Master Gracey not because he had been formally given the title by the Disney Imagineers. He hadn't. The name came from the fans and cast members. It was actually found on a gravestone by the ride's queue. Originally, it had been intended as a tribute to Yale Gracey, an Imagineer responsible for many of the major special effects found in the ride. Like standing dominoes in a line with the first one tapped, assumptions tumbled in a chain reaction. Fans began making the connection that the master was the man in the portrait, and that the man in the portrait had hanged himself, and that the man who had hanged himself was the Ghost Host giving the tour. It made sense in its own odd little way.

The name George, seen on one of the stretching gallery's paintings, contributed. (The fan-loved story was that the woman sitting on the grave was the young master's mother, a psychotic woman who had murdered her husband--the mustached bust labeled 'George'.) People seemed to like the idea that Master Gracey was named after his father. It was easier than trying to come up with a whole new name. This became such a widespread belief by so many fans that it created his identity. That belief, combined with the attitude and voice of the Ghost Host, and the painting, helped form who he was.

Disney Magic worked in mysterious ways, especially on the park's Characters. Their creators (Master Gracey liked to think of them more like parents), mixed with the love and belief of the fans, gave them life.

With this life came a responsibility. Certain Characters were given the task of overseeing their respective lands within the park. They made sure things were in order. Back when the Magic Kingdom first opened, they had more say in how things were run. Daily, they talked with the Imagineers, telling them about what it was like to perform for the guests. From the Imagineers, they learned about imagination and creativity. The Characters soon developed more distinct personalities and, much to the surprise of their creators, started having true emotions.

Nowadays, it seemed as if the Characters weren't consulted about anything. Rides were demolished and added into the parks without so much as a word to them. Were the current cast members and Imagineers afraid of them? Or did they just not care? Did they just see them as another bunch of audio animatronics, unfeeling robots whose sole purpose was performing for paying customers?

Well, that was going to change!

"Where we goin', boss?" a hoarse voice asked.

"The castle," George mumbled. Eyes wide, he did a double take. Sitting on the roof of the hearse were three men, the Mansion's iconic hitchhiking ghosts.

The coachman groaned. "Not you three again!"

"You know Georgie," said Ezra, the skeletal spook in the derby, "you should know by now to--"

"BEWARE OF HITCHHIKING GHOSTS! BWAH HA HA HA!" Gus, the short, bearded dwarf cackled.

"So," Phineas, the plump phantom with the carpetbag queried, "what's this trip for?"

The master quirked an eyebrow. "To be honest, I'm not sure. It's something important though. All of the Kingdom's representatives are going to be there." His pale pink lips curled up into a smirk. "Mark my words, a disquieting metamorphosis is in the atmosphere, gentlemen."

"Huh?" Gus looked confused.

After searching through his bag, Phineas found a dictionary. Flipping back and forth through the pages, he clarified, "Change is a-comin' and it might not be good."

Crossing his arms, Ezra scoffed. "Not good for who?"

Cryptic as usual, Gracey murmured, "We shall see, won't we?"

* * *

Upon entering the meeting, Gracey was quick to spot his friends and fellow Magic Kingdom representatives. Henry Bear waved a clawed paw at him. A heavily accented "Hola!" was squawked by Jose the parrot, perched quite comfortably on the back of an ornate chair. The only other human present, the Carousel of Progress's father figure John, gave the ghost a respective nod. George pulled out a seat and sat at the round table. 

"Good morning, gentlemen," Liberty Square's spokesman greeted the others. "And I see our two most lovely members are tardy," he chuckled.

John smirked back. "Well, you know how women can be sometimes: Fashionably late."

Henry, old fashioned as always, growled softly and chided, "Now now boys, mind your manners!"

No sooner than the Country Bear scolded the men, the heavy oak door creaked open and two sets of light footsteps daintily entered the chamber.

"Ah, there's our bonita senoritas right now," the parrot announced with a whistle.

Smiling, the others turned to look as Snow White and Cinderella walked in. Elegant as they had always been, they wore their iconic dresses. These two women were the last two representatives. Snow White watched over Fantasyland and the nearby Toon Town Fair. With her castle overseeing it all, the entire park was Cinderella's domain. It was easy to think of her as a governor while the others were merely mayors.

Wings spread, Jose bowed in his own birdy way. The others stood and bent at the waist, showing their respect for the two princesses. Cinderella curtseyed in return. Snow fervently waved a hand, her face breaking out into a wide grin.

With a chastising glare, Cinderella bumped her with an elbow and hissed, "You're a princess. Act like one."

Scowling, the younger girl replied, "I've been a princess a lot longer than you. So there." Unable to hold it back, she grinned playfully again and winked. Cinderella couldn't help but smirk back. But as they took their seats, her expression changed to one of somberness. The men noticed it and slowly sat down, apprehensive of what was about to transpire.

Cinderella folded her white-gloved hands and took a deep breath. Then she twiddled her thumbs, trying to think how she should tell her news. It wasn't going to be easy.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Henry spoke up. "If any of y'all are hungry, we've got a basket of fruit here." Pointing a claw, he gestured to the ignored assortment in the center of the table.

"Oh, how lovely!" gushed Snow, reaching forward to take a helping. Blindly, she dug her hand in and pulled out a ruby red…

"APPLE!" she shrieked. She flung the fruit back into the basket and wiped her hand roughly on her dress. "Can't get clean! Can't get clean!" she wheezed.

"Quick," commanded Cindy. "Where's your bag?"

"Here!" Snow White pulled a small, brown paper bag out of a pocket and put it to her lips. The bag expanding and contracting with her sharp breathing, she hyperventilated for a few more moments before calming down. Her hands were shaking as she put the bag away and she looked even whiter than usual. "S-s-sorry, everyone. You'd think I would have gotten over that by now." She hung her head in shame.

With a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, Cindy comforted her. "It's all right, sweetie. We understand. Now," she turned to the others. They looked as if they were trying very hard not to chuckle as they quietly coughed into their fists; or in Jose's case, wing. "I've been wrestling with this news quite a bit, but I'm not sure how to put it. To be blunt—"

"WHOA!" A figure came shouting and spinning through the thankfully open window, swinging from a rope of unknown origin. Letting go, he somersaulted once, and then crash-landed on the table. He tumbled and then slid off and hit the floor. Instantly springing back up, he stood, posing with his hands on his hips and wearing the fruit basket like a hat. Noticing everyone staring at him in bewilderment, he quickly threw off the basket and then struck the pose again, grinning like a cat.

"Oh no," John groaned, rubbing his temples. "Not you!"

"That's right!" the crasher proclaimed. "Captain Jack Sparrow!" He took off his pointed hat and bowed. "And I've come to commandeer this committee, savvy?" Sword in hand, he pointed it at the general assembly. "Ya see, I've got some changes I want to see done."

Cinderella arched an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Like…" He flopped into the seat Jose was perched on, his legs dangling over the armrest. "I want to be the rep…rep..reprah…"

"Representative," George pronounced slowly with a roll of his azure eyes.

"Aye, that. I want to be the republican for Adventure Land!" he declared.

Glaring at him, Jose squawked loudly and ruffled his feathers. "No deal, senor! It is bad enough they stick those two show stealing jerks in my show and take my song! If you think you're stealing my job, you're loco!"

"Agreed," drawled Henry. "Now, if that's all you wanted Mr. Sparrow, then you should skedaddle outta here. We have important business to attend to."

"_Captain _Jack Sparrow!" the pirate corrected. "Now," he curled his beaded trail of beard around his index finger lazily, "in the case that you doubt my ability to lead, head, or otherwise control this fine section of the park, I've got a petition. One thousand signatures, mates." He reached down into his coat pocket and took out a sheet of rolled up parchment. Dramatically, he flicked it, flinging his fist back and knocking Jose off the chair, and sending the poor parrot into a flapping, screeching frenzy.

"I've got a list of names!" Jack sang, waving the paper. "I've got a list of names!"

Cindy snatched it from his grasp, ignoring his protests. "Hmm… Well, this _does _look official, doesn't it?" She smiled and winked at the others. "That appears to be one thousand names, all right. But there's a problem, Captain."

Chuckling nervously, he asked, "And what would that be, love?"

"It appears your own name has been signed at least two dozen times. And 'Captain' has been misspelled in several instances. Every other signature is just from some girl named Ashley."

He grinned sheepishly. "She's the president of me fan club."

"That's nice." She held the paper with both hands, each side pinched between thumb and forefinger. Then to Jack's horror, she tore it down the middle. "Come back when you have a real case, Captain Sparrow."

"Fine!" he huffed indignantly and sulked. Then he suddenly perked up. "Perhaps you two bonnie lasses would like to join me for a cup of tea."

SMACK!

He was slapped in stereo, each ear receiving a stinging blow from the princesses. "I didn't deserve that." Pushing himself up from the chair, he meandered to the window. "Well, I know when I'm not wanted!" Stepping up onto the stone ledge he proclaimed, "Just remember: This is the day you almost negotiated with Captain Jack—"

Gracey shut the window.

"SPARROOOOOOOOOOW!"

The cry was followed by a splash as he landed in the moat.

"Well, that takes care of one problem." Chortling, the Ghost Host once again took his seat. "Are you all right, Jose?"

"Si!" He had flown back up onto his perch, disheveled but otherwise fine. "It's going to take a lot more than that to get rid of this old bird."

Cinderella smiled kindly. "We are a resilient bunch, aren't we?" But the smile soon turned downward and became a frown. Sighing, she turned her soulful blue eyes to the others. "I'm afraid I had to call this meeting to tell you some bad news." She bit her bottom lip. Her throat was beginning to tighten. Any moment now she knew tears would fill her eyes. "The Carousel of Progress is going to be demolished."

Silence. Complete and total silence answered her. The others stared, not knowing what to say. They were in shock!

John's jaw fell slack as noises that weren't quite words burbled in his throat. Trembling, he was finally able to shout, "WHAT?! But how can they? It's the only one in existence! It's the only attraction with Walt's name on it!"

"I know." Cindy couldn't meet his gaze. "I'm so sorry, John."

"Where did you even hear this?" he moaned, hoping it was just some sick rumor.

From somewhere near the ceiling, a little voice squeaked, "We tell Cinderelly! Me and Gus-Gus sawr it all." Two brown clothed mice, one in a red shirt the other in yellow, raced across the ceiling rafter and ran down the side of the wall beam. Landing on the table, Gus and Jaq began to recite their tale.

"We was in office, big big office!" the skinny mouse exclaimed, spreading his little arms wide. "Looking for cheese. Big men in suits—" Here Gus imitated an important businessman, puffing out his chubby chest and looking stern—"they start talkin', so me and Gus-Gus hide!" They crouched down. "But we risson! Suit men say, 'Not much people in Carousel! We smash it, make big ride! Put store in exit!'" Shuffling a slippered foot sadly, he added, "When they go, we rush to tell Cinderelly right away."

"Oh no!" Snow White exclaimed. "What are we going to do? We can't just let this happen!"

"I don't know," the blond princess answered wearily. "I never thought this would happen. They should know by now how something like this upsets the guests."

"The guests?!" screamed John. "What about me? What about my family?! What about the legacy?! We're the only ride that actually inspires the message for people to have hope for the future and what lies ahead!"

Henry sighed. "They don't have any respect for us anymore." Brow furrowed thoughtfully, he asked, "What if we confront them?"

"They'll shut us all down," growled Gracey.

"What about the fans?" asked Jose. "Surely, they'll protest."

The bear shook his shaggy head. "That never works. You know that first hand. But we've got to think of somethin'."

From inside it's a small world, the clock chimed, its toy soldiers stepping out to dance as the smiling white face rolled from side to side. It was a quarter past six.

"People will be out in the streets soon," Cinderella explained, knowing everyone knew the routine by heart. "We'll get together again tonight. For now, we're adjourned."

Without a word, they stood and dejectedly filed out. Snow White dabbled her eyes with a handkerchief. Cinderella blinked away the tears. Henry and Jose exchanged sad looks. As the others went to their attractions, John lingered behind, gazing out at Tomorrow Land.

"There's a great big beautiful tomorrow, shining at the end of everyday…"

George stood behind his old friend, listening to him sing softly. He didn't know what to say. It felt unreal. Looking back at the hearse, he motioned for his driver and the hitchhikers to wait. They had been playing cards, oblivious to the horrific news.

"John?" Gracey asked tentatively. Perhaps it was wrong to invade his privacy, but he would feel worse if he just left him. "John, there could be some hope. Nothing is set in stone, except for the epitaphs." He tried to smile, but he couldn't muster it.

"Did you ever know Walt, George?"

Taken aback by the odd question, the ghost quickly said, "No, not really. He died before the Haunted Mansion was finished." Everyone knew that, but he didn't remind John. He just waited for him to speak again.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, the Character sighed and slowly nodded. "He was a good man. Progress, that's what he believed in. Things should improve and change, all to make life better. I remember clear back to the opening day at the World's Fair, seeing all of those people and teaching them about the wonders of technology. Man, were they amazed. There had never been anything like my show before." He smiled, seeing the memory in his mind's eye. "After the fair was over, then it was on to Disneyland. Not long later, we were uprooted and taken east, and we've been here ever since.

"Walt's gone, but his dreams live on in the hearts of young and old alike. Despite what mistakes have been made, the lesson of progress has never faltered. It's what drives this place on. Well, progress, Dole Whips, and stuffed animals." His chuckle was hollow and humorless. "It would be hypocritical of me to protest this. After all, it's in the name of progress, and how can I argue against that? Maybe it's just my time to go. It would be progressive to remove my show and replace it with something more popular. That's the way the world works."

George frowned. "But it's wrong to just—"

"No. It's not wrong. It's progress, Gracey. Progress."

George watched him walk away. This was wrong. Deep down he knew it was wrong.

He stepped up onto the hearse's bench, greeting the others curtly. It must have been the intense scowl on his face that kept the others quiet. Usually they would be begging to hear the news. He couldn't tell them yet, not until he got the swirling thoughts in his mind to stop long enough to let him think clearly. He didn't know what to do. But something would have to be done. Something drastic.


	2. Liberty

High up in the sky above Lake Buena Vista, the first helicopter tour of the morning gave a couple of tourists a bird's eye view of the Walt Disney World property. If the occupants had looked down at the highway below, rather than at the large patches of dark green trees or the drab gray buildings, they might have noticed a brown blur speeding down the road. A closer look would have revealed two dots, one blond and the other red, bopping in time to blaring music. Had they been within hearing range, they would have heard it was No Doubt's song "Tragic Kingdom" that was playing. And had they really cared about any of this, they would have noticed too very important people indeed...

"I get to pick the CD on the way back."

Liberty just smirked at Jake and turned up the volume. The wind whipped her mane of orange-red hair as the Jeep sped towards the employee parking lot. With only a clear, plastic roof and no doors, the light tan vehicle looked like a prime target for hijacking. Its only line of defense was the fact it was possibly the most ugly car ever made. It spat out more exhaust than the Indy Speedway clunkers in Tomorrowland. Plus it looked like it would go up in flame quicker than in a Pinto on a bumper car course.

"Ready for the day?" the khaki clad Jungle Cruise skipper asked, parking his ATV.

Lib shot back, "Am I ever?"

Jake grinned at the redhead. "You're just jealous 'cause you know I have the better job."

Lib shoved him, making him cackle. The friends got out of the car and fell into step with one another. "The sad thing is," she said, "you might be right. But I work at the funnier attraction."

"Oh, ouch!" he feigned an emotional lash, hand across his heart. The closer they got to their lockers, the greater the excitement in his eyes. Jake Livingston genuinely loved his job. And he honestly thought the jokes were funny! Every day he strode in, bright eyed and bushy tailed, with an arsenal of pathetic puns in mind. Sandy haired, loyal, and hyper, Jake always reminded everyone of a golden retriever.

He got his uniform, grinning from ear to ear. It looked just like the outfit he was wearing. Lib shook her head and rolled her emerald eyes. It took a special breed to be a Skipper: a blend of stand up comedian, sadist, and masochist all rolled into one.

Picking up her pale pink blouse, white cap, and long skirt, Lib wondered if it took a certain type to do her job as well.

* * *

An unseen fiddle played cheerfully, its sweet tones carried on the breeze as it wafted through Liberty Square, drifting around colonial style buildings. Ducks in the Rivers of America quacked and scrambled for fresh, hurled popcorn. The Liberty Bell steamboat sailed past the Haunted Mansion. Every couple of hours, the captain would tug on the whistle, making several guests in the spook house's queue jump. Across the river, kids and parents climbed and ran across Tom Sawyer's Island.

Whistling along with the patriotic tune of an invisible fife, Liberty Madison stood in front of the Hall of Presidents. Perhaps it had been fate, having a name like that and having the love of American history that she did. When she was a young child, the Hall of Presidents had been her favorite attraction. Little swinging legs unable to touch the floor, she had sat in rapt attention, eyes glued to the giant screen as the narration and projections gave a brief, engrossing history of the U. S. The best part came after the film, though. She had squealed in delight as the red, velvet curtain had been squeakily raised, revealing what looked like the living, breathing presidents, the formers and the current. Hearing the inspiring words of Abraham Lincoln had started her love for history. How she had wished those were the real men so she could talk with each and every one and find out how things had really gone down.

About twelve years would pass before she would set foot in Disney again. At nineteen, she had moved from her native Philadelphia to Lake Buena Vista, Florida, to be in the Disney College Program. Of course she requested if she could work in the Hall of Presidents. To her surprise, they let her. On her first day, after ushering small groups in and out of the show, she decided to give up most of her lunch break to watch it.

Eagerly, she had anticipated the narration she only had flickers of a child's memory of. However, when the voice started, it was different. She brushed that aside though, and kept enjoying the show. But to her horror, the attraction was changed!

It was almost impossible to stay quiet as she gritted her teeth and gripped the arm rests of her cushioned chair, listening to some random voice cry out during the Constitutional Convention debate segment, "What about the slaves?" When the Whisky Rebellion part was completely taken out, her eye twitched. Gone was the positive note on inventors like Thomas Edison and the Wright Brothers after the lesson on the Civil War. That had been replaced with a mini speech about continuing prejudice. The whole thing had been revamped to be historically inaccurate for the sake of being politically correct! Or rather, making the nation seem politically correct in its early years.

She would admit that the Hall of Presidents had been a much more positive outlook on history, skirting some of the more negative issues, but at least it got most of its facts straight. Now it was full of falsities and depressing. The attraction that she had loved so dearly she now hated. But she was stuck there for the time being. Maybe after her semester was over, she could work part time and request to move to EPCOT's American Adventure.

She would ask about Splash Mountain, but she had a feeling word of her petition to get _Song of the South _released on DVD had reached someone higher up and she'd never be allowed to work near that ride. They probably thought she'd stage a protest. It wasn't like she'd really given them reason to assume she'd do something like that. Well, okay, maybe she had. And maybe she had been out of line telling everyone in the waiting room for Hall of Presidents each and every inaccurate little detail of the show. And maybe she shouldn't have handed out pamphlets and told people to complain at City Hall. Honestly, she was amazed she wasn't let go.

Lib sighed and looked around the empty waiting area. Perhaps she needed to quit being so anal-retentive. It was meant to be entertainment, after all. Actually, for most people, the Hall meant a quick nap in air conditioning. She should, she thought, just be thankful it hadn't been torn down and replaced with a playground and meet and greet, like poor 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.

Glancing down at her Donald Duck watch, she noted it was time for her lunch break. Another cast member was there, so she need not worry…Who was she kidding? Like there was going to be a crowd! It had been practically deserted all day. But it was early November, and a weekday at that. With Mickey's Not So Scary Halloween Party finished, they wouldn't be seeing heavy crowds until December. Even if some families came here during the kids' Thanksgiving break, it wasn't too bad. (Compared to Christmas and New Year's, nothing was "too bad.")

So she slipped away and headed for the employee cafeteria.

* * *

Stuffing a ketchup covered chicken finger into his mouth, Jake boasted, "I got a kid to laugh! At one of my jokes!" He chugged down a swallow of soda and then continued. "It was the bathroom one, with all the natives dancing in a circle. You know, 'You may think you're witnessing some great, tribal ritual, but the chief really lost the key to the men's room.'" Beaming, he stole one of Lib's fries.

She playfully stabbed at his hand with a plastic fork. "Are you sure he was laughing _with _you and not _at _you?" Moving too quick for him to catch her, she took some macaroni and cheese from his plate.

"Careful with that joke. It's an antique." He pilfered another French fry.

"Oh, and you would know about tired old jokes, Skipper Jake."

"Exactly. I'm the leading expert." Looking up, he noticed a friend of theirs walking towards them. "Oh!" he cried in a mock, Shakespearean accent. "What ho! Tis the fair princess, come to grace us with her presence! To what do we owe the extreme pleasure, O graceful maiden of the Middle East?"

Francine Torres blushed and pushed her black hair over her shoulder as she took a seat at their table. Underneath the purple robe she wore was her Jasmine costume. "Hey guys."

Soft spoken, Francine's voice was hardly above a whisper when she wasn't out posing for photos or signing autographs. Her big, brown eyes always seemed to divert shyly away when she wasn't in character. She was actually a Latina, but, as she pointed out, when you were in a good enough costume and had the right wig, kids didn't see race. All they saw was their hero (or heroine). And really, their grinning faces when they saw the characters they loved were all that mattered.

"How's your day been, Frankie?" Lib asked.

The other girl stared down into her salad, poking at it with a fork. "Oh, it's been all right. I'm just really tired. My step-dad and I got in another fight last night."

Lib and Jake exchanged arched eyebrow looks, and then they both gave Frankie an once-over glance while she was still distracted by her food. No bruises they could see. That didn't mean anything, though.

"Uh, you know," Lib began, knowing she was treading on thin ice, "when that happens, you can call me. I can come get you and you can spend the night at my place."

Frankie shook her head. "I wouldn't impose. And, I mean, it's not like anything happened. Just words." The eighteen year old sighed and pushed her food around. Unlike Lib and Jake, she didn't live on property, and she wasn't in the college program. Working part time, she would graduate from high school that May. The role of princess had always suited Frankie. It seemed like she was just waiting for her prince charming to show up and whisk her away for a fairy tale, happy ending.

Lib couldn't decide whether she felt pity or frustration. But she held back any lectures this time.

Instead, she said, "Since we've got tomorrow off, Jake and I were going to have a 'Swept Under the Rug' Disney film fest at my apartment tonight. You're welcome to join us. I've got plenty of popcorn." She gave her most encouraging expression.

Lifting her head, the younger girl grinned. But then the smile faded. "Oh, I can't. I've got to be home tonight to watch my stepbrothers and sisters."

"Maybe next weekend then."

"Hey-hey!" a caffeine enriched, cracking voice spastically called out, startling all of them out of their somber mood. A lanky teenager in a Space Mountain CM suit flung himself down next to Jake. "Oh my god! You'll never guess what I found out!" he quickly blurted, his head whipping from side to side. He was shaking, hair and glasses askew.

"What's up, Isaac?" asked Jake. "Besides Astro Orbitor," he chuckled.

"No time for jokes!" Isaac spat, his eyes big and bloodshot behind his thick lenses. Body trembling with the after effects of having two Red Bulls for lunch, he lowered his head down close to the table and waited for the others to do the same. "I've got news," he hissed. He jerked his head above the others just for a second, shooting nervous glares in every direction. Lowering his head again, he whispered, "You know that ever since ExtraTERRORestial Alien Encounter was taken out, I've been keeping tabs on what's on slate to be removed, right?"

Actually they didn't. Truthfully, they knew less about Isaac than they knew about, say, how to build an audio animatronic from the ground up. (And since neither Jake nor Lib could even build an erector set tower with written instruction, color coding, and half of it already put together, that was saying something.) The only reason they could remember the kid's name was because he wore it on a tag!

"Uh, yeah," they lied.

Conspiratorially, Isaac darted his gaze around and slowly reached into his pocket and took out a folded note. He pushed it towards Lib. "You didn't get it from me," he ordered, tapping the side of his nose. His eye twitched.

Opening the white printer paper, Lib's eyes dashed across the font, her face showing more and more disbelief with each paragraph. Jake and Frankie, sitting across from her, could only wait to hear.

"But…but…" Lib babbled, too upset to make a coherent sentence. "I thought…I thought this would be, I don't know, _protected_!"

Jake snatched the parchment from her limp hands and read it out loud. "'Go ahead has been given on demolition of Carousel of Progress. Dismantle can be done eleven, twelve…" He looked up. "Are they talking about tomorrow? It's the twelfth."

Isaac bobbed his head. "It's been closed all day. 'Refurbs' they say. Ha! They're trying to do this without anyone knowin'. It's a conspiracy!" Shaking, he ducked back down, whimpering.

Lib frowned thoughtfully. "How did you get this?"

"Hacked into the system. Don't know who it's from though. Just one board to another," he explained breathlessly. " I was just able to snag the e-mail. Then it shut me out. Ha! But the point is, I got it!"

After being quiet for so long, Frankie finally spoke up. "Are we…are we going to, you know, do anything?" she asked timidly. "I really like that ride. The song always makes me happy."

Lib looked thoughtful. "But this is pure Walt. How could they get rid of it? His name is in the title. And it's Americana! It's all about looking forward to the future while paying tribute to the past! Not everything has to be a thrill ride! You need time to relax and just take in some charm and wit after walking in the heat all day. They think everything needs to be able to sell toys," she sneered. "There's always at least half a theater full when I watch it. It certainly does better than HoP."

"You know, you never hear anything about small world getting the ax," Jake quipped. "I thought everyone hated that."

"I like it," Frankie mumbled into her bowl.

"What can we do?" asked Lib. "Even if you," she looked at Isaac, "were to send that out to everyone and post it on every message board, nothing would be done. Remember Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea?"

"Mr. Toad's Wild Ride," Jake sighed, remembering how he and his older brothers had shown up in brown shirts that read "SAVE TOAD!"

"Alien Encounter," grumbled Isaac.

"Dreamfinder in EPCOT," Frankie mumbled. "And Dreamflight here."

Horizons… World of Motion… Mission to Mars… The list could go on. Many attractions had come and gone from the parks. If something had worn out its popularity or there was an idea for something "better" that could go in its place, or a ride got too many complaints, out it went. It was something fans got used to, even if they didn't like it. But Lib couldn't think of any reasons to remove Carousel of Progress. Maybe it was considered too "slow" and "boring" by today's standards, but it always seemed to have a crowd. It was classic, sweet, funny, and above all, uplifting.

Something about this felt wrong. She wished she could do something. But when management made a decision, not even chaining yourself to a ride car could get them to change their minds.

Glancing down at her watch, she decided to break the somber silence. "Lunch will be over in just a minute. We have to start heading out." As they left to throw away their trash and put up their trays, she couldn't help but feel they were being watched.


	3. The Meeting

Later that night, after the employees had left, the park came to life. Characters roamed, visiting friends, chatting with neighbors, and raiding the turkey leg—or as Henry called them, emu leg--carts. Disney's mascots loved to come out and play just as much as the guests did.

Every land was buzzing with activity. The Pirates of the Caribbean's auctioneer and Scarlett swapped crude jokes over a few pints of ale in Adventureland. Around the Enchanted Tiki Room's thatched towers, Pierre the parrot flew after his female costar, Suzette. Fritz the cockatiel just shook his head in mock annoyance at his flirtatious friends. In nearby Frontierland, Br'er Fox and Br'er Bear chased the wily Br'er Rabbit down Chick-A-Pin Hill, much to the amusement of all the critters watching. Twanging tones of guitars accompanied by whoops and hollers from Grizzly Hall could be heard halfway across the park. The ghosts of Liberty Square played hide and seek in the graveyard. Dumbo raced Peter Pan around Fantasyland. Buzz and Zurg battled in the streets of Tomorrowland as Stitch raced around the Indy Speedway in a little car that had been enhanced with a pair of rockets.

This didn't just happen in the Magic Kingdom. In the lobby of the Hollywood Tower Hotel at the Disney Studios, ghosts had a swinging party. Figment flew through the Imagination Institute, thinking up new ways to creatively annoy Dr. Nigel Channing over at EPCOT. Simba stayed up for hours every night, trying to teach the real lions at Animal Kingdom about the Circle of Life. This went over about as well as Pocahontas' efforts to make the Everest yeti understand that man and nature could probably live together in harmony.

Overall, it was a usual night, save for the fact that the Kingdom's Representatives were not out like everyone else. Cinderella, dressed in her humble brown skirt and blue blouse, paced anxiously in the cavernous meeting room, waiting for the others to show up. She had sent Gus and Jaq to remind the others, hoping her little friends wouldn't run into any cats along the way.

The heavy door groaned open, making the anxious princess jump.

"Sorry I'm late," Snow White called out, dashing into the room, her red cloak floating out behind her and her hood bouncing on her back. "No one else has showed up yet?" she asked, looking around the empty chamber.

Cinderella shook her head. "Do you think we should get the others involved?" she asked, referring to all of the Characters in general.

Snow shrugged. "You know they'll find out sooner or later. Although, apparently cast members have been telling people all day that the Carousel is closed just for refurbishments."

With a sigh of disgust, Cindy threw herself down into a chair. "People know better by now. Everyone grows leery when they see the 'Pardon our dust' signs on the green gates. Your favorite attraction here today, empty plot of land tomorrow."

"Oh, it's not always like that," Snow said kindly, sitting across from her. The girl was endlessly optimistic. She saw the good in everything. Except for apples, of course.

Smiling wearily at her old friend, Cinderella admitted, "I know, I know. I suppose I'm just so upset because John's been a dear, dear friend, and he's one of our last connections to Walt. With the Carousel of Progress gone, it would feel like part of the heart of this place was torn out."

* * *

"Hey, Mikey, mi amigo!" Jose called out to his best friend. An emerald colored parrot flew over and perched next to him. With the exception of the slumbering, gently snoring tiki totems and a few other twittering birds, they were alone in the room. The tropical themed room was always peaceful and dark at night, perfect for naps.

"Anythin' I can be doin' for ya, old friend?" asked the Irish bird, always eager to help out.

Jose nervously preened his crimson feathers a moment before answering. Odd, he could perform in front of hundreds of people each day, but he was always anxious before going to the castle. Maybe it was because it was so different being above the heads of everyone during the show and then being at eye level at the meetings. When John, Gracey, Henry, Snow, and Cindy surrounded him, he suddenly realized how small he really was.

"Just look after things for me while I'm gone. I can't trust Iago not to sell everyone into slavery as an Animal Kingdom exhibit." He spread his wings to fly, but then paused. "Oh, and if you see senor Sparrow, drop a bomb on him for me!"

Michael laughed as Jose flapped his wings and soared out into the night. "Humiliate an Englishman? Tis an honor I do for pride and country, sir!" He bent a wing in salute.

* * *

Meanwhile, the Ghost Host sat in the darkest, most mysterious chamber in the Haunted Mansion: Madame Leota's séance room. He knew he was running late, but he would catch up to the others eventually. Mysteriously showing up just in the nick of time was a talent of his. But he wasn't lingering simply to play a spooky prank. He hoped he could find out some useful information before leaving for the castle.

George peered into the glowing, green crystal ball, hoping to see glimmers of a victorious future.

"Don't stare at me like that!" Madame Leota's sharp voice commanded, making George pull his face back. "It is impolite for a gentleman to gaze so fixedly at a lady."

"I wouldn't think such a lonely woman would be complaining. After all," he smirked, "you've got, hmm hmm, _nobody_."

The clairvoyant's face appeared, a brow arched and her dark lips curled into a cynical smile. "I do have good news. You will be triumphant…"

George grinned.

"But…"

He frowned. There was always a 'but.'

"Only if the chosen four come."

"Chosen four?" He sighed. "Not Characters, are they?" The psychic shook her head, her hair swirling about her face. "No, that would make it easier. And they'll wind up going on some fantastic, mystical quest, right?"

She chuckled. "Right again, Gracey. Four humans. Cast members, to be exact." Suddenly her eyes filled with lime colored light, her pupils and irises vanishing. Her dark voice echoing, she intoned,

"The chosen four shall this night arrive,

And because of them, Progress can thrive.

Scholar, Adventurer, Princess, and Wizard,

Shall save us all from greed's cold blizzard.

But should they fail,

And all is lost,

We'll lose what's most important,

That which has no cost.

Without Progress,

Our world will die,

And that's all I see,

With mind's inner eye."

The orb returning to its usual cool green, Madame Leota shook her head to pull her back into the present. After blinking several times, her eyes reverted to normal. "So there is hope, Master Gracey."

Dull light suddenly flooded into the room as Ezra the lanky hitchhiker strode in. Sitting on the brim of his bowler derby were two brown rodents. "We've got a vermin problem, boss," he joked. "I'd say send for an exterminator, but you know how this place views mice," he cackled hoarsely.

"We not vermin!" Jaq squeaked, clutching the edge of the hat and looking upside down at the skeletal spook's face. Gus hid behind his friend. He'd always been frightened of the Mansion. "Cinderelly send us."

"I figured," said Gracey, somehow managing to sound elegant and cordial, rather than sarcastic. He had Paul Frees to thank for that talent. "I was just on my way. Have you fellows been to see Henry yet?"

They shook their heads.

"All right. I shall accompany you then." He held out his hand and they jumped onto his palm and raced up his arm and perched on his shoulder. "No tagging along this time, Ezra."

"Now why would I do a thing like that?" he grinned.

"And thank you, dear, sweet Leota. Your news will be passed on."

The psychic blushed. "Oh, you're such a flatterer George. Good luck!" Through her teeth, she muttered, "You're all going to need it."

* * *

Things had quieted down in Grizzly Hall. Most of the bears had taken their instruments out into the street and were singing and playing to the delight of dancing critters, pirates, and ghosts. George slipped into the wooden, western style building, the adorable mice still on his shoulder. It was dark and felt empty and he wondered if everyone had left.

Something about the place had always given him the creeps. Bitterly ironic, he knew, but he couldn't help it. Maybe it was all the over bites.

"Hello?"

From somewhere in the darkness, a banjo twanged out a few notes…

Dee dee dee de de dee de de dee…

A guitar slowly answered.

Da dum dum dum duh dum dah dum dum…

Utterly creeped out, Gracey froze, his formerly finely combed hair standing on end. Slowly he started to back away.

From somewhere near the left of the stage, a deep voice rumbled, "Where you goin', pretty boy?"

No ghost was ever that scary! Before George could bolt, three spotlights turned on behind and above him and laughter filled the room. Looking up, he saw the guffawing heads of Melvin, Buff, and Max. The moose, bison, and stag were the Country Bear Jamboree's infamous hecklers. Stuck up on the wall, they had nothing better to do than crack jokes about the performers.

The furthest red curtain on the left slid open and Big Al the bear giggled in his mellow growl as he plucked on his banjo. Wendell, a little brown bear in a small cowboy hat and wearing a scarf tied around his neck, peeked out from behind the main stage's drapery, waving his tiny guitar.

"Gracious Gracey!" Wendell cried. "We thought we'd plumb scared the…dead light outta you!" he laughed.

"Hoo boy," Max the stag chuckled. "You northern boys sure are fun to pick on!" His two cohorts snickered.

Trying to regain his dignity, George straightened his jacket and cleared his throat. "Is Henry in?"

His over-bite plagued muzzle twitching thoughtfully, Wendell muttered, "Just a sec… HEEEENRYYY!" he hollered, a paw along his mouth.

The MC's voice drawled back from behind a curtain, "Just a moment, Wendell. Where's my hat…"

"Would you hurry it up now, Henry?"

"Wendell…" he warned.

"Goodness gracious!" he shouted teasingly, knowing exactly what buttons to push to annoy his friend. "You got an important visitor here!" he gestured to George.

"Wendell, please!" Henry snarled.

"If you can't cut it, why don't you just send me out—"

Henry Bear pushed aside the curtain and stepped out, wearing a gray top hat, a black bow tie, and a white dickey on his chest. A little sparkling ruby was in the center of the garment. "No thank you, Wendell, that won't be necessary," he said good-naturedly, walking off the stage. "On to the castle?"

"Please," George groaned.

"Are you aware you have mice on your shoulder?"

"It's Disney World. You're bound to be wearing one on some part of you by the end of the day."

Henry chortled. "Sorry about Al and Wendell. They're mischievous, but they don't mean any harm."

"Hey Henry!" Wendell called as the two Representatives walked out. "Do you mind if I borrow your toothbrush?"

Sighing, the lead bear yelled over his shoulder, "Yes!"

"Oh…I should've asked you before I used it then…"

Narrowing his eyes, Henry growled, "Yes, we're all one big happy family."

* * *

By the time George and Henry had made it to Cinderella's castle, the others had arrived and were chatting awkwardly. John had his arms crossed across his chest, frowning and furious.

"Stupid fence," he snapped, his light brown mustache twitching in annoyance. "Do they have any idea how hard it is to climb over those things?" He picked some leaves out of his hair. "Had to vault myself over." He continued grumbling and brushing off dirt. Everyone knew he was pointedly not mentioning his show.

Jaq and Gus had leapt off of George Gracey's shoulder to get a cookie. (Cinderella had promised they'd get one for completing their mission.) The Ghost Host leaned in towards the blond princess' ear. "I had a chat with Madame Leota. She says we have a chance for saving the Carousel of Progress."

Cinderella's face lit up with a smile. "Oh, George, this is the best news I've heard all month!" She turned to the assembled group. "Everyone! Everyone!" They quieted down and turned their eyes to her. "George says we can save the Carousel of Progress!"

John gave Gracey a look of disbelief, but there was a flicker of hope in his eyes. With a voice tinged ever so slightly with a plea, he asked, "Is…is that true?"

Liberty Square's Representative cleared his throat. "Well, it's what Madame Leota has told me. We all know she has quite a…" He tapped his fingertips together, leaving time for an appropriate pause. "…remarkable head for these things." Excitement buzzed in the air and he held up his hands for quiet. "But, this isn't something we're going to do. We'll need help from others."

"Who are they?" asked John, not bothering to mask the emotion in his voice.

"Cast members. Four of them."

Everyone's face visibly fell. "Cast members?" they mouthed to one another.

"And if they can't save the beloved show, then supposedly the very park itself will fall into ruin."

"You're tellin' me our future depends on a bunch of Fast Pass checkers?"

"Henry," Cinderella chastised. "I know it seems odd, but we should know by now that even the most ordinary of people can do the most extraordinary things. I'm not giving up hope, and neither should any of you."

After thinking for a moment, Jose asked, "Do we know who these people are?"

George shook his head. "Leota only called them the Scholar, the Adventurer, the Princess, and the Wizard. But I'm sure these are the greatest champions we can hope for! Why, right now, they're probably preparing to storm into the park and rally everyone together and lead us on to victory!"

Bear, bird, and princesses cheered, knowing they'd soon save their friend.

John, however, was a little skeptical. Grabbing Gracey's shoulder he pulled him close and hissed, "I hope your psychic knows what she's talking about!"

"Relax, old friend. After all, what could happen? It's not like they'll be a bunch of dorky teenagers."


	4. Park After Dark

Jake chewed slowly on a cherry Twizzler rope. Occasionally, he'd alternate between that and a handful of popcorn. Lib's eyes were on the screen. He knew because he kept glancing at her. They were watching _Something Wicked This Way Comes_, the second film in their marathon. The first had been _The Three Lives of Thomasina_. Next would be Lib's bootleg copy of _Song of the South_.

She casually put her head on his shoulder, making his heart go into overdrive.

He liked Liberty. His feelings for her had gone past "Just a friend" a long time ago. She was funny, caring, and smart, and she beat his record for fastest time in eating a Dole Whip without getting brain freeze. For nearly a month he'd been in constant debate with himself, demanding to know why he didn't just ask her out. Well, there were a few reasons. He didn't know if she planned on staying in Florida after her semester was over. For her, he was willing to go into a long distance, romantic relationship. But if she didn't want to ever come back to Florida and he couldn't make it up to Pennsylvania somehow, it would be too painful. Then there was the whole "dating a fellow employee" thing, which was usually frowned upon because if you broke up, it could make work really awkward.

But he could get through those things. _They _could, he knew, if she felt as strongly for him as he did for her. The real problem was that he was afraid that she wanted to just stay friends. He didn't even want to think about how awkward their friendship would be if that were the case. It was always crushing, hearing a girl say, "Oh, I love you too…just like a _brother_" after pouring his heart out. He couldn't fault her for feeling that way, though, since he thought he was such a dork.

But this time was different. She had to feel the same way he did! He just knew it! And tonight was the night to find out. He was going to put his arm around her shoulder and snuggle close. Then they'd look into each other's eyes and blurt, "I love you!" at the same time. Then they'd hug and kiss. Maybe she'd cry tears of joy. On reflection, he'd probably be the one bawling. If things went well, he'd soon be proposing to her, probably on Big Thunder Mountain. He could see it now! As the little train click-clacked up the lift hill through the cavern, he'd pull out a ring and ask, "Won't you be mine?" And they would all live happily ever after.

"Jake?"

"Yes?" He gazed into those gorgeous green eyes.

"Could you hand me the box of Milk Duds?"

"Oh," he had to mask his disappointment. "Sure." He held out the box.

"Thanks."

Was it just him, or did their fingers linger for a bit?

"Jake," Lib said thoughtfully, letting a ball of caramel melt under her tongue instead of chewing it. "I've been thinking…Yes, dangerous I know," she added in answer to his smirk, giving him a little shove. "Maybe we should do something to save the Carousel of Progress." She sighed. "But I don't know what. We've seen what protests and Internet petitions do: Not much. Well, they were able to bring Figment back. But I don't think they'll save CoP."

He looked at her worried face and felt a tug on his heartstrings. Suddenly an idea hit him. "Hey, why don't we go for one last ride?"

"What?" she asked incredulously.

The more he thought about it, the more enthusiastic he got. "Yeah! Let's go to the park and see the show one last time. Can't be too hard to sneak in." He grinned, his hazel eyes sparkling.

She couldn't resist that grin. He looked like a big puppy. She wouldn't admit it, but she had been thinking along similar lines. "Let's do it!"

* * *

Lib and Jake looked up at the peak of Splash Mountain. He had parked behind a warehouse just on the outside of Frontierland. All that separated them from the Magic Kingdom was a chain link fence. Or a few doors if they opted to enter from the warehouse and then go down into the Utilidors, but it was locked. 

"Is it just me," she asked, "or did it look like someone just peeked out of the log on Chick-A-Pin Hill?"

"Br'er Fox is working maintenance?" the skipper joked.

A bright light flicked on, blinding the cast members. Hand up in front of her face, Liberty groaned, "Oh great, we're busted! Look, we're not trying to steal company secrets or blow the place up. We'll just leave."

The beam lowered and a high, yet soft, voice called out, "Libby? Jake?" As their eyes adjusted they could make out the form of Francine, wearing a purple hooded jacket and matching flared sweat pants. She put a hand over the end of her flashlight to dull it. "What're you guys doing out here?"

Liberty cast a glance at Jake and he shrugged. "Um, we came by to go on Carousel of Progress one last time before they start taking it apart tomorrow." She felt silly for admitting it. Being so upset about this whole thing was ridiculous! It was just an attraction! "What're you doing out here, Frankie?"

"Oh." Francine stared at the gravel, shuffling a sneaker. "My step-dad and I got in another fight when he got home. So I left to clear my head." Turning to look at the park, she whispered, "Isn't it beautiful at night?" She sighed. "Seems like no matter how upset I am, Disney always makes me feel better."

From behind them, a voice quickly cracked, "Yeah, I know what you mean."

As Jake and Liberty spun on their heels to face the stranger, Frankie whipped up her flashlight.

"Ow! Ow! Hey! Blind me, why don't ya?"

"Sorry…" Frankie had to think for a moment.

"Isaac," the Space Mountain cast member prompted. "What's the wattage of that bulb? Five hundred?! Oy." He rubbed his brow.

"What are you doing out here?" asked Jake. "Watching for UFOs?"

"Trust the skipper to have the razor wit! No, I'm just out taking a walk. I couldn't sleep. Can't imagine why." He pulled a bottle of Mountain Dew out of a backpack he was wearing and took a swig. "But now that you mention it, there has been some weird stuff going on in the park after dark." Pointing at Splash Mountain with two fingers, he continued, "I take a walk past here a few times a week, and I always hear loud noises, like a party."

Liberty smirked. "You don't think this is some kind of conspiracy, do you? Probably just the night crews cutting up, or a special deal for people staying in the Disney hotels."

Isaac shook his head. "Ha! No, there's something going on." He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, his glasses glinting in the dark night. "Something bizarre. Think about it. What else could have drawn the four of us together, here, at this time? There's something bigger afoot, my fellow cast members. Something has drawn us all here." He grinned, thrilled at his idea, practically trembling with excitement.

Lib put a hand on his shoulder. "Uh, Isaac, I think you need to lay off the caffeine and comic books."

Picking up her hand like she was toxic waste and dropping it, he scoffed, "Say what you want, but you can't deny what a weird coincidence this is. It's just like...like…" He brightened. "We're just like the Animorphs! Brought together by usual circumstances, but we're really here to save the world. See, we've got Jake, our fearless leader!"

The skipper smiled and stroked his chin. "I can deal with that."

"Our kick butt chick character. Only she's a redhead, not a blond." He dodged Lib as she took a mock swing at him. "And, oh!" Clasping his hands on Frankie's shoulders from behind, he playfully swayed her from side to side. "Our obligatory minority character."

The princess giggled. "All right, you've made your point, _Tobias_, but so what? What do you expect us to do? Hop the fence and storm the park?"

"Ha! We're not barbarians! No, I've got something better in mind." Isaac slung off his backpack and took out a laptop. "We'll go in through the Utilidors." Plopping down on the ground, he placed the computer on his lap and turned it on. "I just gotta work my magic and turn off the cameras and unlock the door. Everything's hooked up into one security system." He cackled evilly, his fingers flying over the keys. "Really, they couldn't have made it any easier."

"I thought you got booted out," said Lib, looking over his shoulder.

He snorted. "Not permanently. And…open sez-me!" With one last tap on a key, they heard a click as the door to the warehouse unlocked. Coolly he flicked off the computer and pushed down the monitor. "Hocus pocus, baby."

Frankie shot an anxious look at the other three. "We're not…we're not really going in, right?"

"I'm going!" Isaac put the laptop back into his backpack and flung it over his shoulder. "I've wanted to sneak in for years."

"Ah," said Lib, who found herself following him into the warehouse. "So that's why you had the computer with you." Jake shook away any objections he had and trailed Liberty, with a very reluctant Francine behind him.

"Nah, I bring it everywhere with me I can."

Frankie shut the door behind the group, feeling trapped within the dark halls. "Are you—are you sure all the cameras are off?" she quavered, whipping her flashlight beam around.

"Ha!" Isaac barked cockily. "Trust me! Now…uh…where are we going?"

* * *

"This one comes up right in Adventureland, by the Jungle Cruise," explained Jake, slowly opening the door. "Its how I get to work every day." Casting his eyes around, all he saw was the Cruise's queue and the jungle foliage. All he heard was the cawing of birds and the radio that played in the line. Everything seemed normal, from the faded posters, to the chalkboard jokes, to the broken cages. 

"It's quiet over here," Lib observed. "Dark too. Frankie, could you turn on your flashlight?"

"It—it was on, just a second ago." She grunted, smacking it on her palm. The light flickered for only a moment and then died. "Isaac, do you have any double-As with you?"

"I might be a pasty geek, but that doesn't mean I…Oh wait. Yeah, I've got a couple." He began to rummage through his book bag, mumbling as he sifted through homework and half-written Star Wars fanfictions.

A low rumble made Frankie, Lib, and Jake look up. Shivers ran up their spines as the guttural growl continued, moving closer. From the darkness of the dock, two bright points of yellow-green light followed them as they moved back to the door.

Lib hissed, "Forget about the batteries, Isaac!"

"Hold your horses! I've got 'em!" With a pop and a click, he put in the fresh pair and flicked on the torch. "See, good as ne—AHH!" He screamed.

A tiger, now clearly illuminated, snarled, its fangs glistening. Flicking its striped tail back and forth in agitation, it crouched low, preparing to pounce.

"Oh sweet Lincoln's beard!" Liberty yelled. Thinking quickly, she and Frankie grabbed Isaac under his arms while he scrambled to his feet.

Jake pushed them all behind him, shouting, "Just get to the door!"

No sooner than the words left his mouth, the great cat leapt. It pounced on the skipper, knocking him down. "Good kitty," he squeaked.

"Jake!" Lib screamed.

"Just run!" he shouted back. A snarl jerked his gaze to face the beast. There was something so familiar about it. Really, it was a pathetic tiger, looking moth eaten with bits of orange fur missing.

"Get off him, you Animal Kingdom reject!" Lib pulled back the flashlight to fling it.

"No, don't!" Jake's heart pounded, but he swallowed back his fear. He had an idea. A horrible, hare-brained idea, but it was his only chance. "Tony, don't you know me?" A flicker of recognition flashed across the tiger's face. "It's your old pal, Skipper Jake! 'See Tony on your left? He may be old, but as far as Disney World's tigers go, he's grrrrreat!'" Panic gripping him, he smiled as hopefully as possible.

The huge cat sniffed him for several tense seconds. Then, a low rumbling started in its throat. Purring, it nuzzled him and licked his cheek.

"Okay, okay, Tony! Get off, you balding, Sher Khan wannabe." Chuckling, he shoved off the playful tiger.

"But how?" asked Lib, watching Jake scratch behind Tony's ears.

"Magic," Frankie whispered, unable to contain her smile.

"Nah," Isaac scoffed. "I bet they've been testing some new prototype audio animatronic."

Tony's whiskers perked up as he sniffed the air. Once again, his green eyes glowed and he lowered his head, growling. They others followed his stare. From out of the trees, chattering monkeys swung. Two cobras hissed in a docked boat, upper bodies raised and hoods flattened. A python slithered across the roof of the queue. Swooping down like birds of prey, huge butterflies dive-bombed the quartet.

Isaac yelped, smacking away the giant insects. "What are they?!"

"Humongous plasticous, the Amazon butterfly," Jake quipped. "They grow from twelve inches to a whopping foot!"

"Let's get out of here!" Frankie yelled. With her flashlight leading they way, they ran up the steps onto the main pathway for Adventureland. Ducking a purple flying carpet, they dashed into Pirates of the Caribbean's outside queue building.

The group hardly had time to catch its breath before a rough voice asked, "How would ye lovely wenches like to be auctioned off, eh?" They turned to see the auctioneer. Cackling, the bearded pirate raised his whip and pushed up Frankie's chin. "Shift yer cargo dearie. Show 'em your starboard side!"

"We wants the redhead!" rowdy pirates cheered in the street. Liberty shuddered.

"Quiet you!"

As the auctioneer fired at the drunken louts, the cast members bolted again. It was like a dream, running through the park with all of those recognizable faces. Characters they had known from their childhood went by in a blur as they raced on. Some waved or shouted 'hi!' while others took no notice at all.

They had to catch their breath by the Partners statue of Mickey and Walt in front of Cinderella's castle.

"What on Earth's going on?" cried Liberty. "And don't say a word about animatronics!"

Isaac hazarded helpfully, "Aliens?"

Stitch ran past them, chasing a bunch of the _Toy Story's_ little green, three eyed men with a can of silly string.

"No, not aliens," a soft voice chuckled behind them.

Too used to things mysteriously popping out at this point, the four turned to face this new stranger. John, in his humble slacks and sweater, stepped out from behind the statue. "I think aliens would be a much easier explanation. Hi, I'm John. From the Carousel of Progress. You probably don't realize it, but you're my last hope."


	5. So Begins the Mystical Quest

Liberty stared. She knew this man. She had seen his show at least a hundred times. He was an audio animatronic, programmed to say the same things and do the same movements over and over. _And here he was walking around and talking to them!_ Her brain knew this, but her eyes did not want to believe it. He had spoken to them just as calmly as he did in the show, with that easy to identify with voice. It was the narrator from _A Christmas Story_, wasn't it? No wonder she'd always wanted to hear John say, "It was the dreaded triple dog dare!"

She wasn't frightened, really. At least, not in the same way she had been scared of the tiger and the pirates. With all the running and shrieking they had just done, she was too tired to do any more, and it seemed like the others were as well.

_Catching flies? _a voice in the back of her mind snapped. _Either close your mouth or say something worthwhile. _Months of developing great people skills kicked in and she held out a hand and introduced herself. "Hello, John. I'm Liberty Madison. I work at the Hall of Presidents." He felt solid enough. At least she could rule out the possibility that she had gone insane and this was a figment of her imagination.

When the others realized that the Character wasn't about to rip them apart and start eating them alive, they stepped forward and introduced themselves as well.

"Hi. I'm Francine." She quickly added, "Torres. But everyone calls me Frankie. I play Jasmine." Looking around at the distant Characters behind them, her eyes widened in fear. "She isn't here in she? I hope I'm not offending her!"

John chuckled. "I'm sure you're doing a perfect job, dear."

"Hey!" Isaac was next, enthusiastically whipping the man's hand up and down. "Wow! What are you, some kind of new prototype? I heard there were some things going on in the Imagineering labs, but I had no idea it'd be something so life-like!" He grinned. "Would you mind peeling off your skin so I could have a look—"

"Geeze, creepy much there?" Jake gently eased Isaac aside. "Don't go asking weird questions." To John, he greeted, "Hey, I'm Jake Livingston. Has anyone ever told you you look like Jeff Foxworthy?"

"Who? No! Oh boy," he moaned softly. John's optimism was dwindling quicker than Mickey Mouse being mobbed at a meet and greet. These were his saviors? A bunch of Disney fanatic kids? "Do you know why you're here?" he asked hopefully.

"We snuck in to see your show one last time," Liberty answered. "We know it's due to be torn down tomorrow."

That was a little bit of a relief. At least they cared about him. "I think you'd better come with me. Walk this way, please." He headed towards the castle.

Liberty strode behind him, casting curious glances. Isaac, ogling every creature that darted past, had to be nudged occasionally by Frankie to avoid completely wandering away. True to himself, Jake walked in a perfect imitation of John, giggling at his own joke.

* * *

In the dark, it was hard to see the gorgeous mosaic murals that adorned the inner walls of Cinderella's castle. Over the years, some little bits of tile had fallen off, leaving gray space. Liberty wondered how many tourists had gone home with a piece of the artwork with them. But, despite those numerous flecks of gray amidst the off white and cerulean blues and golden yellows and vibrant reds, it was still beautiful. In simplistic images, it told the story of Cinderella, starting with showing her toiling under the sneering faces of her stepsisters and the unwavering stare of her stepmother, Lady Tremaine. The following images included her mouse made dress being torn apart, the arrival of the fairy godmother and the transformation from tattered rags to the gorgeous gown, the dance with the prince, the shoe being left on the stair, and the right fit being found.

They took a right but had to stop in front of a great wooden door. John knocked on it. Liberty vaguely recalled that it lead to the dining hall.

"Who is it?" a thick, Southern drawl asked.

John rolled his eyes. In as squeaky and high pitched voice as he could muster, he chirped, "It's Mickey Mouse, ha ha! Oh boy, what fun are we gonna have today kids?"

"Oh, you're evil," said Henry, opening the door.

"If he hates my imitation, may he come here himself and say so."

The bear watched curiously as the five filed in, eyebrow arched. "Are they…_them_?" he asked skeptically.

"Them who?" asked Liberty.

"Well, there's four, and they're here." John shut the door. "Think they're the ones Leota was talking about, George?"

The aristocrat tilted his head to one side. "It's certainly possible. Which one is which?"

Snow White pointed at Francine's jacket. "We'll she's obviously the Princess. Look, it says so right there on the front: Princess, and it has little sparkling rubies on the letters."

Blushing, the Latina shuffled a foot bashfully. "Those are just plastic. I'm no princess. But you and Cinderella…wow! This is like a dream come true!" She looked like she was resisting the urge to run up to the women and hug them, just like little girls did to her.

"Hey!" Jake cried, pushing aside his trepidation and striding right up to the table. "Jose! Give me some wing, dude!" He held his hand up, palm out and the parrot slapped it. "You know, once you stop fleeing in terror, these guys are pretty cool."

"This one must be a hologram," Isaac mused, putting his hand in and out of the Ghost Host's head.

George turned, getting four fingers through his eyes. "I am not a hologram…Will you _de_cease your insipid game?"

Isaac dropped his arm by his side. "Sorry," he apologized, dejected. Then he brightened. "Ha! I get it! You're a Pepper's ghost! Like the old magic trick!"

Scowling, Master Gracey fumed, "No, I'm a George's ghost!" Almost instantly, his demeanor changed and he smiled pleasantly. "Master George Gracey, your ghost host. Uh, I'm guessing by your spectacles, you're our Scholar."

"Scholar?" Isaac dug his fingers through his mud colored hair and scratched his head. "Nah!" he scoffed. "I'm just a tech wiz." Thumb against his chest, he bragged, "I can program or hack into just about any system. It's how we got into the park."

Annoyed, the redhead demanded, "What're you…" It was then that she really noticed the ornate chamber and the serious looking batch of Characters seated at the table. "My god. You guys have a...government!"

She blinked a few times and shook her head.

"Wait!" Liberty finally got out the words she'd been trying to say. "Why did he bring us here?" She gestured to John. "Who—_What _are all of you? And what's this about a princess and a—a scholar?" Fearing she'd been too quick tempered, she exhaled and evenly added, "Please."

Cinderella thoughtfully examined the newcomers: The quick thinker, the bold adventurer, the sweet princess, and the technology savvy nerd. She wasn't surprised. As a fairy tale veteran, she knew there were rules that had to be followed when it came to these sorts of things. Everything always fell into place.

"We," the blond princess began with a sweep of her hand to the assembled and suddenly silent group, "are the Representatives of the Magic Kingdom. It is our responsibility to oversee the Disney denizens who call this park home. This is Master George Gracey of Liberty Square…"

"Welcome foolish mortals," he grinned, cerulean eyes gleaming.

"Henry Bear of Frontierland."

"Howdy!" He waved.

"Princess Snow White: Fantasyland and Toon Town Fair."

She giggled. "Hello everyone!"

"Jose, Adventureland."

"Hola!"

"John's our rep for Tomorrowland."

He nodded.

"And myself, Princess Cinderella, overseer of the kingdom. We are the voice of our people, Disney's Characters."

Crossing his arms, John huffed, "Well, we used to be anyway. Back when our opinion mattered."

"You mean," Liberty paused, "management actually took the thoughts of the…" Faltering, she wondered what term to use. Never for a second had she been worried about offending cartoons or robots. Recalling what Cinderella had said, she added. "Characters into consideration?"

"Oh yes indeed." Gracey's voice sounded hushed and ominous. "Right in this very room, we met with the Imagineers. As the years passed, we lost one…then two…" Sighing softly, he stared off into some distant memory, eyes glazed as he recalled the faces of the men and women he lovingly dubbed parents. Still gazing into the distance, he continued, "Those still alive would show up, but then the intervals between the conferences grew greater and greater until one day they just didn't come at all." He blinked and slowly turned his head to look at the four mortals.

"We understand how these things work, I assure you. Not all of the new…additions are going to follow the old ways. Nor will they always be able to make time for what must seem like idle chitchat. All we ask for is respect."

"But you're not getting it," said Liberty.

Jose nodded, taking the conversation. "We also understand that sometimes things become outdated."

"You mean unmarketable," the redhead scoffed. "It doesn't matter that people loved Toad. Pooh sells more plushies."

Grinning, John barked, "I like her!"

"I've been around longer than any of you," Snow White spoke up, without a trace of pretension in her high voice. "And I can say for a fact, this isn't how things would have been run back in Walt's day, or even a decade after Walt's day. It's frightening to think that we're just about all that's left of the original creations, and we have to fear for our very existence."

"But," Francine slunk down into her chair, afraid of retaliation for interrupting the princess' tirade, "what does this have to do with us? We're just cast members. Do you want us to protest or march to the head office, or something?"

Cinderella smiled. "It'll be more than that, I'm afraid. We were told you were the chosen four. The Scholar, the Adventurer, the Princess, and the Wizard. You will be the ones to not only save the Carousel of Progress, but all of Disney World from a horrible fate."

Liberty and Francine stared at her, mouths open. Jake's eye twitched.

Isaac jumped up and pumped his fists in the air. "I so told you! Oh, this awesome! What do we do? Do we get some wicked powers or weapons?"

His eager grin was met with awkward silence. Henry, Jose, John, Cinderella, and Snow White turned and looked at George.

"Uh…" For once, the Ghost Host was at a loss for words. "Well, Madame Leota didn't exactly specify…"

The door suddenly opened, startling the group. In the shadows, the first thing to appear was a pair of bright green eyes. As the dark figure strode forward, its form became clearer. It was a woman, tall and elegant, with her long chin tilted up haughtily. She wore an old style maroon dress, with rounded shoulders, and thin long sleeves. On her right hand, she had a ring with a great, turquoise stone. A similar broach rested on her chest and matching earrings dangled from her lobes. Atop her head, her gray hair was piled, three streaks of silver snaking up from the forehead and temples. Her right palm rested on the head of a thin black cane.

"Stepmother," Cinderella breathed. "To what do we owe the…" She bit her tongue. Pleasure?"

"I was passing by," Lady Tremaine explained pleasantly, "and I couldn't help but overhear the commotion." She strode further into the room. "It is hard sometimes, living in this castle and not catching snippets of the debates that go on in here. Usually, I keep my nose out of the business of others, but I must say this current topic has piqued my interest. I know some information that may help you."

"Help?" Francine snapped, shocking everyone. "You're a villain! Why would you want to help?"

Lady Tremaine simply waved away the insult. "Tut tut, dear. My quest for power ended the day Cinderella married her prince charming." Eyes narrowed, she glowered, "I know when I'm beaten. Besides, if this destruction of John's ride will, as you say, destroy our world, what would I get out of that?"

She waited, and was answered with a few eye rolls and quiet grumbles. No matter how much time had passed or how much logic was in the argument, it was hard for any hero to trust a villain. But, for some reason, they always did anyway.

Smiling, she raised an eyebrow smugly. "Right." Passing by the table, she walked to a beautiful tapestry hanging on the stone wall. The four cast members had completely missed it. It was a detailed map of the Walt Disney World resort, with the greatest detail placed on the four theme parks. "Cinderella dear, you really should pay more attention to the decorations here." Lifting up the tapestry, she showed the black back of it. Gold lettering was embroidered on the back. She read it out loud:

"When the masters have gone,  
Leaving the skeptics in their place,  
Only the four can save the world,  
From vanishing without a trace.

The magic of the masters,  
Forgotten and unattended,  
Must be renewed with life,  
For it to be healed and mended.

To fight a new, great evil  
Some weapons are required.  
Hidden within the kingdoms,  
To each hero are squired

Scroll of knowledge for the Scholar,

Adventurer's sword for combat,  
The royal crown of the Princess,  
And power of a Wizard's hat.

These forces may all be unearthed,  
Within this enchanted realm.  
Possess all four tools of power,  
And truth will be at the helm."

There was a lengthy pause before someone dared to speak.

"So, we're not dealing with some suits," Liberty mused. "This is some kind of evil force that's been unleashed."

Lady Tremaine nodded. "And you four have been chosen to vanquish it. Unfortunately, the location of the items isn't included. I think you'll have to figure that out yourselves."

Francine examined the tapestry. "So who's who?"

"Well," Jake thumbed his chest, "it's obvious I'm the adventurer. Frankie, you've got to be the princess. It says it right there on your hoodie. Liberty's the scholar. She's the smartest person I know! And that leaves Isaac…the wizard."

"Sweet!" Isaac squealed. "This is just like playing D&D! Only it's real!" He paused. "And I'm not alone in my room."

"All righty, Scholar." Jake put a hand on Liberty's shoulder. "What do you say? Are you up for this? I'll follow your lead." Isaac and Francine nodded agreement.

Every face in the room was turned hopefully to her. But it was John who had the most pleading expression. She wanted with all her heart to help him and the other Characters. Yes, she had grown more cynical over the years about Disney. Many of its decisions had angered her. But perhaps she could help put it back on the right track. She could save the magic. For once, she could take some action that would actually accomplish something! No brochures, no Internet petitions, no whiny protests!

"Yeah," she grinned. "I'm up for this!"

The Representatives stood up and cheered. John shook the hands of the four mortals. "Thank you! Thank you!" he cried. "You have no idea how much this means."

Unheard over the words of encouragement from the Characters, Jake hissed into Liberty's ear, "Do you have any idea of where to start?"

"Not a clue. I figured we'd wander around until we stumbled upon it," she whispered back.

"Sounds like a plan. Besides, this is Disney World. It'll be somewhere really obvious and ironic. I guarantee it."


	6. Searching in a small world

A/N: Before I get to the chapter, I want to apologize for how long this has taken. I won't go on babbling about that, but I do have a lot of thank yous to give out. First, thank you so much Kalora for mentioning my story in _Crowns of the Kingdom. _I know most of the people reading this are doing so because of that. Thanks to Werecat Boy for always reading my chapters before I post them and offering advice and pointing out errors. He's also been my go-to for almost every bit of Disney trivia I need. (I already miss you so much! Be sure to get plenty of pictures of the skates and stingrays for me while you're at the cove:D ) A huge thank you to Crabby Matt. After only an e-mail and a few conversations, he's given me so many wonderful little jokes and many, many great ideas for this. And last, thank you everyone for reading and taking the time to review and being patient. I can't thank you guys enough.

P'tfami, I haven't forgotten about fixing the prophecy poem and I'm sorry I haven't gotten around to it yet. I want to make it flow better, but I've had to push it to the back burner for a little bit.

Be sure to check out this picture of the characters my friend Crimson Soul Taker made for me! Go to the Deviant Art website and look for art by AquarianWolf. I can't put the link here. :(

* * *

"Well, I'll let you get to your grand quest," the stepmother said kindly. Lady Tremaine's lips curled up into a thin smile and she gave a curt nod. Turning, she strode out of the room, her slender black cane leaving an echoing tap with each step. The fat, green-eyed black cat Lucifer had sat waiting just beyond the doorway. As his mistress brushed past, he sat up, stretched lazily, and then cockily followed at her heels, his fluffy tail proudly held up with it's off white tip curved to the side like a question mark.

Her departure was followed by a brief silence from the Representatives, making the cast members wonder if they trusted her completely. She was right, though, and they really had no reason _not _to believe her. As the last of the distant _tap-taps _faded somewhere down the hall, everyone noticeably relaxed a bit.

Cinderella finally spoke up, beaming at the four mortals. "From the bottom of our hearts, thank you. I wish you the best of luck in your journey."

"Wait," Frankie interjected, "you mean, you guys won't be with us? It's just going to be the four of us?"

"Well, yes." Cinderella smiled. "We have to stay here and keep an eye on things. If something were to go wrong…" She trailed off, worry in her voice.

"We gotta be here to set it right," Henry finished jovially. "Everyone trusts us to guide them."

Master Gracey chuckled softly. "Frightening thought if you think about it," he joked, smirking. "But, should you be in need of assistance, I'll be _hanging_ around."

"And I'll go spread word to our friends and the other Reps," said Jose, spreading his bright red wings. "No need to keep this from the rest of the World." He soared up and out of the castle.

Liberty took a deep breath and exhaled quickly. "Well, I guess it's time for us to get going." She felt as if she should be spouting off some inspiring, grand speech. "Uh, we'll do our best!" Polite, quiet applause told her that would do, and she and the others marched out.

The quartet of cast members stood outside of the castle, facing Fantasyland. They felt as if they were in a dream, waiting to wake up. If that was the case, they thought, then they might as well make the best of it and play along. Morpheus could be humored.

"Anyone else think maybe, just maybe, we're all in simultaneous comas?"

"Ha," Isaac laughed. "No Jakey boy. This is the real deal." Reaching into his backpack, he took out his bottle of Mountain Dew and took a swig. "You talked to all of them, shook their hands. They were just as real as you and me. This is _destiny_, man!"

"Well, whatever it is," Liberty said, "we agreed to help. Jake, I think you were onto something when you said it would be obvious."

The skipper grinned proudly. "We'll be in and out in twenty minutes. Let's just get a list of any place with paper." After a short pause, he scratched his head. "Um, any ideas?"

Liberty furrowed her brow, scanning her memory. "Of course," the redhead mused, "there's the library in the Haunted Mansion. We could ask Master Gracey to help us look. That's the most obvious place I can think of." She felt a faint flicker at the back of her mind. She was forgetting something… Maybe another ride could be the answer. What was a better place to look for writing than the land based on storybooks? "Do you know of any places in Fantasyland, Frankie?" Not getting an answer, she turned around. "Frankie?" The girl had vanished! "Where did she go?"

No sooner than the question left her mouth, a gray blur swooped down over their heads, missing their hair by millimeters. It soared back up into the night sky, accompanied by a giddy, high-pitched shout.

"YAH-HOO-HOO-HOO-HOOOIEEEE!"

His large, slowly flapping ears silhouetted in the light of the moon, Dumbo hovered above them. Frankie waved from where she sat on the little elephant's back. "I thought I could get a view of the whole park from here!" she called down. After a moment, she added brightly, "I don't see any scrolls."

"You know Frankie," Liberty chuckled, her tone kind, "I doubt it'll be waving from the top of the castle like a flag."

"We don't know that for sure." Hands on the side of his mouth, Isaac yelled, "Hey, did you see any of those flying stone fish? I've _always _wanted to ride one of those!"

Dumbo touched down lightly and Frankie slid onto the ground. She waved as he took off again, soaring not quite majestically.

"Now I've seen everything," Jake quipped.

"Well," the princess asked, "how _are _we going to look for it? Or any of the other stuff! This place is huge. Walt Disney World's twice the size of Manhattan!"

Jake shrugged. "Why not do the Scooby crew thing and split up? We've all got our cells on us, right?" In one swift move, all four cast members whipped a cell phone out of their pockets. "Liberty, you and I can check out Liberty Square and Adventureland. Frankie and Isaac can take Fantasyland and Tomorrowland."

"Sounds good to me." Liberty smirked. "Jinkies, if I'm the redhead, this doesn't make me Danger Prone Daphne, does it?" She gave Jake a playful push and he quickly tried to hide the slight blush to his cheeks.

"Well, we do have a good candidate for Shaggy. Isaac _is _a total spazz…"

Isaac gave an indignant sniff. "I'd be offended if I wasn't being ridiculed by someone who thinks the backside of water is comedy gold." He took a sip of his soda. "And Shaggy rocks. So there."

"So, we're okay with the plan?" asked Liberty. "If anyone finds the scroll, call the others. Then we'll see where we go from there."

"All righty!" Frankie gave a mock salute. "We'll find it faster than you can say bippidy, boppidy, boo." She hooked her arm through the crook of Isaac's. The usually quiet girl's playfulness caught him off guard. He gave her a lopsided grin in return and they skipped away, singing. _"Heigh ho, heigh ho! It's off for the scroll we go! Gotta find it fast, or Progress won't last! Heigh ho! Heigh ho! If we don't find this map, then we're in deep crap! Heigh ho! Heigh ho! Don't wanna be crude, but we're probably screwed! Heigh ho, heigh ho…"_

Watching them depart, Jake asked, "Are we checking the Mansion first?"

Liberty nodded. "Yeah, but let's get our Ghost Host. I'd hate to think what would happen if the happy haunts thought we were invading their home."

"Oh, I'm sure they're just _dying _to meet any guest. Every _boil_ and _ghoul_ is probably so well _manor-ed_." Jake was so caught up in his punning, he didn't notice Liberty letting out a sigh and heading back for the conference room. "They'd treat us like the _life _of the party. Heh." He looked around. "Liberty? Hey! Wait up!"

* * *

The Haunted Mansion's Dutch-gothic façade was eerie at night, especially when the glow of the moon was dulled behind the clouds. Shadows of gnarled, thin tree branches reached across the pale red brickwork like grasping, clawed fingers. A wreath, dried and dead, hung just below the front door's knocker. Coffin shaped cement supports stood on either side of the small porch. The cast members had both secretly hoped they would walk up the skinny stairs to the false entryway and have a real mansion behind the façade revealed. But even with all of the wondrous magic in Disney World, this would not be the case. 

Jake and Liberty followed behind the slightly transparent George Gracey as he led them through the normal queue, past the meandering thin ropes by the toppled birdbath and under the green awning at the left side of the house. After going through the turnstiles, they paused by the graveyard. The silly rhyming epitaphs could barely be read. But the mansion's master wasn't focused on any of them. Instead, he was looking at the newest addition to the small cemetery, Madame Leota's tombstone.

It was a rounded headstone, a little bit thicker than the others. A beautifully sculpted, three-dimensional woman's face protruded out. Gracey leaned over and playfully tickled under the chin. The eyes opened with a mechanical click, revealing bright green irises.

"Shoo!" the face snapped in a feminine, yet sharp voice. Then the eyes blinked. "Oh, Master Gracey, it's you!" She chuckled sheepishly. "Sorry. I thought you were another lizard. I love the little scaly green dears, but their feet make my face itch terribly."

George smiled, a soft chortle rumbling in his throat. "I was hoping I would catch you out here before going inside. I have some guests with me, and if you could put word ahead to the others, I would greatly appreciate it."

"You want me to tell everyone to be on their best behavior." It wasn't a question.

"If you wouldn't mind." George batted his eyelashes innocently.

"As you wish, Master Gracey. But I'll have you know, I came out here to get some peace and quiet!"

"I had guessed."

"Those swinging wakes always ruin my concentration!"

"I'm well aware of that, dear," he said absentmindedly, inspecting his fingernails.

Playfully, she said in a singsong tone, "You owe me!"

"Add it to the long list," he smugly waved it away, his eyes sparkling with laughter verbally held back.

Leota sighed. "Forget it. I'll do it for the sake of our guests, not for you." She winked. "Last word!" With that the face became motionless again and they were left looking at a very inanimate grave.

They weren't left standing there for long, however, for the set of dark, wooden double doors just a few feet ahead of the trio creaked open.

Gracey bowed and gestured that the cast members should go ahead of him. Excitement and apprehension filling them, they strode in as confidently as they could.

* * *

Frankie and Isaac tried not to feel despaired after asking the seven dwarfs if they had seen a scroll anywhere. Bashful only shyly tugged on his ear, babbling. Happy had said he didn't, but wished them luck just the same. Dopey had nodded at first, but then gave the matter a serious second thought and shook his head. Sleepy was snoring halfway through his answer. Doc tried to be helpful, but wound up just confusing everyone with his switched around words. Sneezy just had sneezing fits, and Grumpy nearly got into a fistfight with Isaac over how "dwarfs" should be spelled. Frankie had to pull them apart. 

Now they stood in front of "it's a small world," wondering if they should go in. They couldn't recall any papers in it, though.

It was unsettling at night. The round, smiling white face of the clock tower wasn't leisurely spinning from side to side. Glittery, nonsensical numbers sparkled, reflecting in the dark water. Nothing could be seen when they tried craning their necks and peering into the archway leading into the first room of singing dolls. Only darkness looked back at them, accompanied by the gentle splashing of water. One solitary boat, empty, slowly bobbed in from the ride's last room.

"Don't they put all of those away at night?" Isaac whispered into Frankie's ear. He didn't know why he needed to whisper, he just felt like it was the best thing to do. "There's all of those weird, dark, round tunnels everywhere. I thought the boats went in and out of those." His eyes grew wide. "Maybe they're really portals to some dark, hellish dimension!"

Frankie had to giggle. It was so funny the way people reacted to this ride. Since her first trip to Disney World when she was four, she had loved "it's a small world" for its message of worldwide compassion and understanding. She couldn't understand what it was that annoyed everyone. Why, she even loved the song! She could hum it all day and not get tired of it.

The aqua colored boat was nearing the loading platform. It was as if it had been pushed out for them to find.

"C'mon, let's check it out," Frankie said, jogging through the queue.

"But…" Isaac trailed off. Giving one last nervous look at the entry tunnel, he dashed behind her. "Are you sure about this?"

"Sure I'm sure. What have we got to lose?" She had grabbed hold of the boat and had one leg in.

"Our lives?" he suggested, stopping beside her. Something was watching them! He could feel it!

Sighing, she made a stray black hair flutter up. "I don't get what it is that makes people hate this ride." She sat down on the front row bench.

He plopped down beside her. "People say it's the song. I don't think it's the song. Although hearing that line over and over and over is so obnoxious. No, it's the darkness! Even the walls and ceilings are painted black instead of some nice, happy background! And then there's all of those tunnels that lead to nowhere…" His eye twitched.

"I thought you just said those are for the boats to load," she teased, pushing them forward by bracing her hands on the platform and shoving.

He ignored her, continuing his rant. "And all those dolls…they sing but their mouths don't move…"

"Some do," she said helpfully. They were bobbing along nicely and would reach the tunnel soon.

Isaac was in his own little world now, eyes glassy. "And then there's the multi-armed shadow dancer. She gave me nightmares! The suns…oh, those creepy suns with the faces!"

"I think you need some help of the professional sort, the kind with the long couches and the pills."

"And with it so dark, an open entrance, and that water everywhere, I just _know _something is lurking underneath. Snakes, rats, roaches, maybe a giant squid…" He peered over the side, into the water. Something shined back in the gloom. Squealing, he leapt back, hoping to God it was just pennies.

Frankie just shook her head, smiling. How anyone could think such a sweet, charming little boat ride could be evil she had no idea.

Entering the first room, the boat slowed and gradually came to a stop. Waiting a minute, they let their eyes adjust to the darkness. They couldn't make out every detail, but could see the basic things around them. Isaac took out his flashlight to aid their search and flicked it on.

They were flocked on the right by France and on the left by Britain. The usually spinning chess pieces sat still, the can-can dancers frozen in mid kick.

"It's even creepier when all you can hear is just the water splashing," he muttered.

"Just water?"

"That's what I said," he muttered, anxiety mixed with annoyance.

Frankie turned to him. "If that's what you said, then who said, 'Just water'?"

"I thought it was you!"

She shook her head, lips pursed. Waving his arm around, he held the beam aloft, searching for the speaker. "There!" he screamed. "That doll in the tulip! It moved!"

The little blonde boy sitting in the flower slowly turned his head and stared at them. He clicked the toes of his clogs together. _TAP! _Woodenly, he raised an arm and pointed at them. "Brains!" he moaned.

"Holy shitake mushrooms," Isaac groaned.

"Brains! Brains! Brains!" From their perches and pedestals, the dolls climbed down, making their way for the boat. As one they chanted, "Chew their brains! Tear out their hearts! Drink their souls!"

"Drink…their…_souls_?" Frankie wrinkled her nose. "How do—"

"ABANDON SHIP!" Isaac shouted, flinging himself into the shallow water and treading as fast as he could.

The dolls marched closer, arms out in front of them like zombies.

Frankie shrieked and took the drier route, jumping onto the carpeted, thin pathway along the edge of the wall. She ran out, meeting Isaac at the exit ramp. Not waiting for the dolls to get them, they ran to the exit. Frankie dashed through the wheelchair exit gate. Isaac vaulted himself over a turnstile. Not until they were outside of Peter Pan's Flight did they stop to catch their breath.

"I—I _told _you!" Isaac wheezed. "That ride is evil!"

"But they all seemed so nice and cheerful before." She bit her lower lip.

"It was all just a cover for a bunch of soul drinking zombies!"

"At least they didn't come out after us," Frankie offered helpfully, watching the ride entrance. "Maybe we should try Peter Pan's Flight. I think the kids had a bookshelf in the nursery. Wendy could help us look."

"Oh no! No, no, no!" Isaac waved his hands. "And chance running into Captain Hook? Or Tick Tock? No way! Those dolls were enough! I say we check out Tomorrowland. I can't remember anything other than a couple of wanted signs in Frontierland. The dinosaur bones on Big Thunder will probably come to life and try to eat us!"

"All right, all right," she said calmly, trying to calm the shaking young man down. "Here, have some of your Mountain Dew." She got the bottle for him and he chugged it, his shaking ceasing.

"Always relaxes me," he sighed, putting the bottle back into his bag. Frankie just shook her head again in bewilderment and the two set off for Tomorrowland.

Meanwhile, back inside "it's a small world," the dolls were rolling with laughter and giving each other high fives.

* * *

"And here we have our library," Master Gracey outstretched an arm in a grand flourish towards the bookcases. 

"Only ghost stories, of course," Jake quoted with a grin.

"A lot of medical books, actually," the Ghost Host commented. "You'd be amazed if you could see all of the details the Imagineers slipped in." He smiled wistfully.

Liberty had always loved the Haunted Mansion's library, with its books moving in and out; the rocking chair with its invisible occupant; the stern, watching busts; and the ladder that shuffled from side to side. The only complaint she had was the fluctuating light. Sometimes it was too bright, nearly giving away some of the effects. Other times, it could be too dark, putting riders in near pitch-blackness, save for the dim lamp near the chair. It was as if none of the ride's mechanics could control it.

She shuddered and tried not to think along those lines. The walk here had been creepy enough. Rather than take the Doombuggies, George had guided them along walkways along the track.

After entering the foyer with its green fire, they had stepped into one of the stretching rooms. They had not bothered to wait for the effects, but just walked right through while the tightrope gal, the quicksand men, and the widow laughed and tossed around a pair of pants from portrait to portrait, sending the flustered diplomat on a wild goose chase in his striped boxers. ("Ohhh, that's why he doesn't have pants!" Jake had exclaimed, happy to have finally solved the riddle of "that pantless dude on the dynamite.")

Gracey walked up to the ladder and called up to the top rung, "Oh Mr. Dewey! Could we have your assistance, please?"

"Yes, yes, very well. Hold your horses!"

It was a nasal voice, as if the speaker was not only stuck up, but had a bad cold. Footsteps were heard and something descended the rungs. No one appeared, by Liberty and Jake had the impression that someone was standing in front of them, hands behind his back, waiting for an order.

The invisible specter sniffed. "What is it you need, _sir_? I'm at your disposal, _sir._"

"Ah, nice to hear that Milton." George cut right to the point. "As you can see, I have a couple of guests with me who—"

"Guests!" Milton interrupted, finally noticing that someone other than the master of the manse was present. The lights in the room suddenly became a bit brighter. "Oh, how wonderful! I'm so lonely. No one ever talks to me and everyone just goes by in those little buggies so quickly. Once, I would just like to have a nice literary discussion with someone. It's very depressing you know, sir, being stuck in a silent room with a wealth of knowledge all around you that just _begs _to be analyzed and examined. Granny Rocker over there doesn't say anything!"

George looked over at the chair. "That's because there's no one there. That's just the little machine that makes the chair move."

The lights flickered insanely, threatening to blow a fuse.

"I've been chatting about Emily Dickinson to an empty seat for an hour?!"

"Yeah," George nodded. Pleasantly, he added, "Probably two. The woman that sits there tends to leave early after closing to go dancing in the ballroom." Before Milton could snap, George continued. "Now, I need some help from my favorite librarian."

The lights dimmed. "I'm your only librarian," Milton grumbled.

"And that makes you all the more special. Now, is there any kind of mystic looking parchment here, or a scroll?"

There was a light sound, of feet on carpet, and then the ladder creaked as if bearing weight. It slid from shelf to shelf for several minutes and tomes were pulled in and out of their place. Jake, Liberty, and George even joined the search. But it was to no avail. No scroll was found.

Jake sighed. "So much for our easy search. I could have sworn this would be the most obvious place."

"Yeah," Liberty mumbled, looking over the spines of books. She tried pulling one out, but saw it was just a stationary prop. Along the side, it read in dull red letters, _Our Founding Fathers_. She blinked. "Someplace obvious…"

"Maybe Frankie and the Trekkie are having better luck."

"Someplace obvious!" Liberty grinned and grabbed Jake's shoulders. "It's so obvious! Jake, I got it! Let's go!" She grabbed the confused skipper's hand and ran back the way they came. "Thanks for your help, Master Gracey!" she called over her shoulder.

The Ghost Host blinked his azure eyes in mild surprise. "Well, at least that's settled." He straightened his jacket.

"Say, sir, since that dilemma is out of the way," Milton started hopefully, "then perhaps we can debate on the mythological allusions found in the novel—"

"So sorry Mr. Dewey, but I do have some important business to tend to concerning our kingdom. Have a good night." He quickly, strode out, hands behind his back, hiding his silent mouthing of "Psycho!" from Milton.

The lights in the library flickered in Milton's despair.

He decided to continue his conversation with the rocking chair.

* * *

A/N: Milton Dewey is a character I created. He shows up in a few of my Haunted Mansion stories and the RPG game in the Disney forums here. 


	7. Seize the Future!

Jimmy vaguely remembered the fence from his old life in Disneyland. It had been bland and green, just like this one, with a little sign that was unclear enough to make people think the attraction was just being given basic maintenance. Elbows braced against the top of the barrier and feet on a box of tools, he watched the other Characters of Tomorrowland quietly. The eleven-year-old Carousel of Progress Character wasn't shy, just thoughtful. Unusual, considering his favorite hobby was teasing his older sister Patricia.

No one gave him much notice. There were some sympathetic nods here and there, some consoling words, like, "Oh, you guys will be back up and running in no time! We all go down for rehab every once in a while." But to Jimmy, everyone seemed so unsure when they spoke. It was as if there was some sort of conspiracy!

That morning, his father and mother had "words." Jimmy didn't like "words" because he knew they were always much more serious than any top of the lungs shouting match could be. "Words" always sounded quiet, but couldn't quite pass for calm because some tint of anxiety or worry was there. "Words" made the whole house feel unsettled.

But unlike the usual "argument but not an argument," this time Jimmy could hear hope and excitement within his father's hushed voice. Although the boy couldn't tell what was being said, muffled through doors and walls, it was nice to hear his father have that old idealistic tone again. It had felt like decades since his pop had his old exuberance, that wonderful faith in the future. In reality, it had just been a day, but that had been a long time to go without seeing his father in a good mood.

"The castle looks so pretty at night," a sweet, high voice interrupted Jimmy's thoughts. He didn't have to turn and look to confirm it was his older sister. "I like the blue lights on it best," Patricia continued. "Although the pinkish purple is gorgeous, too. You know what else I love? The fireworks!" Sulkily, she added, "Well, the noise anyway. I wish we could be out when they set them off. Maybe they could put on a special show for us one night. After we entertain the people all day, I think we deserve it, just once. I've never seen the fireworks. I only hear them, right above our roof. They're so close I can just close my eyes and imagine all of the colors and sparks. But I know what I see with my mind's eye can't be nearly as beautiful as the real deal."

Jimmy grinned at her. Her conversations could be interesting when she wasn't babbling about boys. But he knew she was out there for the same reason he was. She was worried.

"Patty," he asked softly, "what do you'll think will happen to us?"

She folded her arms on the top of the fence and rested her chin on her wrist. Sighing, she gazed at Cinderella's castle. Her first reaction was just to say, "It'll be okay." All she wanted to do was comfort him, to give him some hope. But false hope could only add to the pain if the worst should happen. It was like their last days at Disneyland all over again; except this time there was no guarantee they would simply go somewhere else to entertain a new audience. This time, when they were shut down, they might never wake up.

Patricia didn't know what happened to defunct Characters, but every scenario her imagination presented terrified her. Were they dismantled? Simply stuck in another ride somewhere? What if they were put in some dark warehouse, left alone, in the dark, with no one to talk to except for their thoughts?

"Are you okay, Patty?"

She blinked, suddenly realizing she had been staring at the now blue castle. "I'm—I'm fine, Jimmy." Ruffling his brown hair fondly, she smiled as reassuringly as she could. "Honestly, I don't know what they'll do to us. We just have to keep faith. Papa's in a meeting right now, and I bet they've got a plan to keep us safe. You know he won't let anything bad happen."

"Yeah!" Jimmy grinned. "Everything's gonna be all right!"

Knowing she couldn't promise him that in good conscience, she just ruffled his hair again. Hoisting herself up, she put a leg over the fence and climbed down. "Come on!" she called. "Let's go to the arcade and play air hockey!"

"All right!" He scrambled over, landing a bit more roughly. They both laughed as his sister pulled him up, and together they raced to the Tomorrowland Arcade.

They had no idea what lurked in the shadows.

* * *

"Where do you think it could be?" Frankie asked, doubtful of this new course of action. She wanted to go back and check out The Many Adventures of Winnie the Pooh or Peter Pan's Flight. Both of those rides definitely had books in them. But maybe Isaac was onto something. Maybe it wouldn't be that obvious. Or it would be obvious in a way they didn't think was obvious, but upon reflection was really, really obvious. 

She rubbed her temples. And if she didn't stop thinking like that, an impending headache was obvious.

"John reads a paper in the Carousel of Progress and a robot reads a magazine in the People Mover," Isaac listed.

"Tomorrowland Transit Authority," she corrected absentmindedly.

He huffed. "It's still the People Mover to me! Now, where to start…"

"Maybe we should ask around. There's a few pe—er Characters on the Indy Speedway." Peering in the darkness at three glowing figures, she affirmed, "It's the hitchhiking ghosts." Blinking her drying eyes, she added, "Stitch is there too. The ghosts look like they're trying to run him off the track."

"Nah," Isaac waved a hand. "I'm sure they're all good friends. What kind of grudges could they have?"

Just then, Ezra shouted, "Off the road, you merchandise hoggin' mutt!"

"Meega naga twista!" Stitch responded, shaking a fist. He then snorted back and hurled a wad of spit at the spirit.

"Ahh!" Ezra cried, trying to shake the goo off. "I've got alien loogie on me!"

"Well, I stand corrected," Isaac admitted, shocked.

As the two cast members walked away from the bizarre spectacle, hoping they wouldn't be noticed by the feuding four, Frankie commented, "I don't think it would be in the CoP. I'm sure John would have recognized it and said something earlier."

"Yeah," Isaac mumbled, chin in hand. Musing aloud, he said, "The Timekeeper would have been the perfect person to hold it. He could have put it anywhere in time for safekeeping. But he's gone now." He gestured to the building that formerly housed the Timekeeper show. Now it was Monsters, Inc. Laugh Floor.

"Where do you think they go when they're gone?" asked Frankie softly.

Isaac shrugged. "Probably some warehouse. A bunch wind up in other rides."

"I wonder if the people who take them apart know they're alive. Does it hurt, you think? We only ever thought of them as robots, but what if it is painful having the fake skin pulled off and the wires taken out?"

Isaac involuntarily shuddered. "I never thought of it before." Pondering about it, he was reminded of his favorite former attraction in the Magic Kingdom, the ExtraTERRORestial Alien Encounter. The show had been the most frightening thing Disney had ever created. In it, you had been trapped in your seat as an alien accidentally brought in through a teleportation experiment gone wrong was loose in the theater. Bouncing harnesses had given the impression that it jumped on your shoulders while jets of air and nearby speakers convinced you it was sniffing you. At one point, the alien even "ate" a maintenance guy who had come in to check on you. The droplets of water spilling on the guests below made for perfect blood and spit. In the end, the alien was tricked into going back into the teleport tube and a malfunction caused him to explode, spraying the audience. Stitch's Great Escape was essentially the same, except a lot less dark, a lot less evil, and nobody was eaten alive or blown up.

As usual, whenever he passed by Alien Encounter's former home, Isaac had to pause and pay respects. But this time as he looked down below the Stitch sign and past the Fast Pass machines, he noticed something new. It was a door, a bland, plain door that looked as if it could be an emergency exit or a broom closet. The only thing about it that caught his attention was a freshly painted sign on it. "X-S Tech Leads Only."

He wondered if the sign was just homage. X-S Tech had been the not quite innocent futuristic corporation that had built the teleportation device. But what if it led to something greater than just a bunch of cleaning supplies? He was certain that door had not been there that morning. He had to find out what was behind it! It was as if a seductive voice was whispering in his ear, "Look! Go in! Go in! You'll find your answers here!" In fact, he could have sworn he actually had heard that. It was a sign! A clue!

Grinning, Isaac told Frankie, "Let's check this out! I've got a hunch we'll find something in here." He ducked under the Stitch metal queue rails and jogged over to the door. Waiting anxiously for her answer, he held his hand on the knob, but didn't turn it.

Frankie shrugged and trailed behind. "It couldn't hurt, I guess," she replied, a bit uncertainly. Her unease grew with a simple turn revealed the door to be unlocked.

"Maybe we were meant to find it," suggested Isaac. Frankie couldn't argue with that logic, but her unease grew as they descended down a flight of winding stairs into darkness.

* * *

Bricks of faded red looked even duller in the dim lamplight. The red, white, and blue hangings over the first story awning were almost invisible. But one thing shone and shimmered with just the slightest amount of light. Well, four things, numbers, but they made up one date that Liberty would never forget. 

"1787," Jake read aloud, looking up at the Hall of Presidents.

"September 17, 1787," Liberty elaborated. "The day the United States Constitution was ratified."

It was strange walking into the waiting area without wearing her pink blouse and blue skirt. The air inside had its usual crispness. Even though she knew every nook and cranny, she still turned on the lights, just in case anything escaped her memory. The clean, blue carpet muffled their footsteps.

"I love the lobby," Liberty sighed. "There's just an air of…pride and dignity here. Just look at all of those magnificent portraits!" She gestured to the painted likenesses of presidents that circled the room.

"Hey, where's Dubya?" asked Jake. "I see paintings of everyone else."

"Oh, he's a bust over there." She pointed to the far left side of the room at a podium that accommodated the resemblance of George W. Bush.

"Two terms and all he gets is a bland, gray bust?" Jake cackled.

Ignoring any political comments, Liberty continued on, almost in a daze. "Just think, presidents have passed through here. Millions have come to hear the voices of the past."

The skipper let out an exaggerated gasp. "Billions of naps have been taken in this very theater!" But he felt a sting of guilt the instant the joke left his lips. It wasn't that Liberty was hurt at all by the comment. In fact, it appeared as if she had never heard it. She was gazing with awe at the case of memorabilia. It was filled with trinkets, photographs, plaques, and newspaper clippings, all things that had been important to understanding the personal lives of the nation's former leaders. The little smile she wore as her eyes took in every object made her glow with an inner light. He knew that glow, had seen it every time she was giving him one of her little historical anecdotes. It shined brightest when she was discussing her greatest passion. He loved it, wishing for the thousandth time that he could make her glow like that.

"We have to go into the auditorium," the redhead said, brushing past him.

"Huh?" Jake blinked, realizing he'd been once again adrift in the tumultuous sea of his thoughts.

With an arched eyebrow and a smirk, she joked, "You know, the place with the robots where people take naps?"

"Right. Sorry." So she had heard him. Feeling ashamed, he caught up with her and wondered if he should apologize or not. He opted to stay quiet. Side by side, they stepped through the navy blue curtains that separated the lobby from the show.

Once inside the theater, Liberty grew cautious. _No, not cautious_, Jake thought. _Shy. _Everything came to life once the park closed. That would have to include those men up on stage, hidden behind the shimmering turquoise curtain. Men who Liberty had wanted to have deep conversations with for years. This would be like a dream come true for her, except for the fact she couldn't stay and have all of her questions answered. They had a job to do, after all.

"Hello?" Liberty called out. "Is anyone…uh, sentient? We won't take much time. You see, we just need—"

To their astonishment, the curtain rolled up, its _creak-a, creak-a, creak-a_ echoing in their silence. Once the stage was completely revealed, a deep, clear voice rang out, "Ladies and gentlemen, the Presidents of the United States!" The lights above the stage clicked on and radiated down upon the now breathing, shifting, blinking leaders. True to his usual routine, the narrator continued. "George Washington—"

"Oh, with all due respect, can it man! Or they'll be here all night!" Franklin D. Roosevelt snapped from his chair, grinning without a trace of malice in his voice.

"Visitors?" Teddy Roosevelt excitedly peeked around his comrades, trying to get a good look at the cast members. "Bully!"

"What is it you two young people need?" questioned Millard Fillmore, turning to face them. The gold pendant he wore caught the light, reflecting it off painfully into Andrew Jackson's eyes.

"For God's sake, take that damn thing off! I swear, every show the left half of the audience gets blinded by your bling!"

"Jackson! Watch your language. We have a lady present," Abe Lincoln reprimanded.

Jackson crossed his arms over his chest, angry that he'd been scolded. "You're just jealous that I'm on the twenty and you're only on the penny and the five."

"Yes, well, _everyone _carries a five dollar bill with no qualms," Lincoln shot back. Rising from his seat, he walked to the edge of the stage and greeted Liberty and Jake. "What can we do for you two?"

Liberty glanced nervously at Jake and he gave her an encouraging smile in return. He nodded gesturing that she should do the honors.

With a small gulp, she stepped forward. "Mr. President…" Every head turned and looked at her. "Sirs, we came to get a very special paper from you," she addressed all of the men on stage. "It's the Scroll of the Scholar. I believe it's hidden here." She was answered with confused, curious expressions, and whispers.

"Scroll?"

"We'd be aware of it!"

"Balderdash!"

"Silly girl doesn't know what's she talking about."

"Would you take off that stupid brooch, Fillmore?!"

But it was George Washington's voice that rang out sharpest. "Quiet, everyone. Give her a chance to speak!" He was sitting at a small, round table, covered in a long, elegant red tablecloth. At his right was an inkwell with a feather quill sticking out of it. He stood and then politely bowed. "What is your name, young lady?"

She stepped up onto the stage and then bowed respectfully in return. "Liberty Madison, Mr. Washington."

James Madison looked up at the mention and smiled smugly.

"And that's my friend, Jake Livingston." Jake waved. "We were sent by the Representatives of the Magic Kingdom to track down some objects. The scroll is the first and I'm sure it's in here." She looked down and then grinned. "In fact, I think I know exactly where it is."

In front of her, on Washington's table, was a sheet of parchment, the audience end of it rolled up slightly. No one could actually see it, even from the front row. For years she, and probably countless others, had just assumed it was the Declaration of Independence. "Excuse me a moment of presumptuousness, sir." Carefully she picked it up to read it. But a second later, her brow furrowed in confusion. "It's blank."

Sadly, Jake offered, "Maybe it's just a prop. I'm sure we can find the real scroll if we keep looking."

"Wait!" Words, written in beautiful calligraphy, slowly began to materialize on the page. As they appeared, shiny as wet ink, she read it aloud. "The words of the true Scholar awakens the Scroll."

"It's voice activated," Jake chuckled.

Liberty laughed, partly at his joke and partly in relief and amazement. "I can't believe it," she whispered, her face aglow in her triumph. Looking up at the others, she breathed, "Thank you."

Washington shrugged. "When that was placed in here years ago, I had no idea what it was."

Lincoln smiled knowingly. "Well Mr. Disney and his team never put in any detail simply for show. Everything has a reason."

Nodding, Liberty quietly agreed. After tonight, no one would need to convince her that Disney magic existed. Turning, she was about to walk off stage, but stopped. "Mr. Lincoln, may I ask you a question?"

"Yes, go ahead young lady."

She stepped up to him. Hardly able to hold it back, she blurted out breathlessly, "I thought you might have a good opinion on this. I mean, you were Walt's favorite president. What's your opinion on the message of the show?" She waited anxiously for his answer.

"Hmm," he pondered it, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "We must always be conscious of people's sensitivities and wants. The great thing about this land is that it is an ever-changing nation, and we try to make amends for our mistakes. But some apologies aren't going to cover everything. Some wounds take a long time to heal. We have to be reminded every so often of our past wrongs, because without those reminders, we'll make the same mistakes again. But, if you do not look towards the future and always dwell in the past, then the future isn't promising and there's no hope for improvement. Yes, it's always wonderful looking at the positive side of everything, but sometimes, the negative must be seen."

Liberty cleared her throat nervously. "That was very insightful, sir, and wonderfully put. But I was, uh, referring to the historically inaccurate bits and the segments that were removed."

"Oh." He blinked. Then he smiled sheepishly. "Well, I have to admit, that was kind of a bull honkey answer, miss. I haven't actually paid attention to the preshow in decades. I always nap until my name is called. I lived through that time. I don't need to have someone tell me what my life was like."

"You want my opinion?" Andrew Jackson asked. "Political correctness sucks!"

"No one asked your opinion!" Harry Truman snapped. "And quit using that stupid modern slang. You say you're trying to be an 'Everyman' but you just come off sounding like a total idiot!"

This started off a round of arguments by the entire two back rows of presidents.

"I think this would be a good time to leave," Liberty whispered to Jake.

"Wait, just one moment. I have a question too." Springing up on stage, Jake stood between Washington and Lincoln, an arm around a shoulder of both. "If you can't tell a lie," he pointed at the first president, "then why are you," he looked at the sixteenth, "called Honest Abe?"

Washington's face went completely blank. "I…I don't know."

Lincoln looked equally baffled. "You got me there."

Jake nodded, content even without an answer. "Thanks gentlemen. That'll be all." He once again joined Liberty on the floor. "Okay, we can go."

Liberty tried to scowl at him but instead found herself laughing. "Come on." She put a hand on his back and led him away. "Let's get Frankie and Isaac. They're probably wondering how we're doing."

Jake nodded, but was only half listening, distracted by his thoughts. _She laughed! I made her laugh at a history joke! Keep going Jakey boy. Maybe you can get two in a row! _As they walked out into the street, he commented, "I know the roll call is already getting pretty long, but maybe they could add another touch to it."

"Like what?" They stopped under a window with two lanterns on the sill. Both were lit.

"Like, after each name, they could have some little quip that pertains to the president's term. For example, after Truman, they could have a guy shout, 'Give 'em hell, Harry!' That way you could warp the minds of a ton of impressionable children; although Disney would probably just change it to "Give 'em fudge, Harry!" or something." He brightened. "Hey, with that slogan, Harry could have his own stand then outside of the theater. 'Truman's Fudge!' It would give everyone a needed sugar rush after walking out."

He was delighted to hear her laugh again. "You should go into marketing, Jake. Disney would probably cash in on it right away if it meant a few extras dollars."

Even with the lamplight shining down on her, he could tell she was glowing, and she had this smile that he'd never seen before. It wasn't like her usual smile, the one she mostly used around guests, where the ends of her lips went completely up. This smile was slightly more relaxed, with the left side up higher than the right and her eyebrows were furrowed in the middle, giving her this adorable expression. It made his heart flutter.

"You always know how to make me laugh, Jake."

"I love making you laugh."

The streets seemed so dark and calm now, a great contrast to the post party after the park had just closed. Celebrating had died down as Characters went inside their homes to carry on quieter conversations. Jake and Liberty had unconsciously moved closer together in their little pool of light, their foreheads almost touching. For almost of a minute of silence they stood there, just looking at one another, as if each was finally seeing something they had never spotted before.

It was Liberty who shattered the stillness. "We should, uh, get the others and get back to our little quest." She cleared her throat and pushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

Jake pulled himself up, noticing that he had leaned down towards her. "Yeah." Remembering their find, he asked, "Does the scroll say anything else? A clue for our next objective?"

"Let me see." She took the paper out of her pocket and unrolled it. "There's enough light here and there that I can make it out on our way to Fantasyland." As they passed by the Sleepy Hollow snack stand, she remarked, "It seemed too easy."

"What do you mean?"

"Finding this. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. But usually there's some monster to face or deadly traps. Just seems odd."

"Yeah. Let's not jinx it." Jerking a thumb back to the counter service window, he joked, "What would come after us here anyway? A killer funnel cake?"

"Well that powdered sugar's pretty vicious if you accidentally inhale it."

"_Snort!"_

"I don't think I've ever heard you laugh so hard you snorted," Liberty jibed.

"I didn't snort," Jake said, confused. "I thought it was you."

"It wasn't."

A sound that made their hair stand on end echoed across the stone path. Clip-clop, clip-clop… 

As one, they slowly turned, coming face to face with a couple of pitch-black cavernous flared nostrils set in a long snout that led up to a pair of blood red eyes. Craning their necks back, their view continued on to pointed ears and a wild ebony mane. Then the beast's rider towered above all of them, his crimson cape flowing down to his leather boots. At his side dangled a long, glistening, curved sword. His high, pointed collar was where he ended.

"Washington Irving's ghost!" Liberty gasped.

"In a manner of speaking," squeaked Jake.

* * *

Coming to the end of the staircase, Isaac stopped, causing Frankie to nearly bump into him. He held his flashlight aloft, rotating his wrist slowly. The room appeared to be some kind underground warehouse. Undecorated, the walls were merely block and the floor was scuffed tile. To the far right were boxes, shelves with what looked like parts of machinery on them, and the start of a trail of wires. Following the red and blue cords, he traced them up and into an all too familiar looking tall, glass cylinder. It had long ago been broken, a gaping, jagged hole left on the side of it. Quicker now, he ran the beam until it came to rest in the left corner of the room. 

"It can't be!" Isaac ran forward, Frankie trailing close behind to be near the light. In his excitement he nearly crashed into the counter he was running to. Running a hand over the curving top, around multitudes of buttons and, knobs, and levers, he wiped off a thick layer of dust. "Holy Han Solo! I had no idea this would be down here! I thought it got reused in Stitch!"

Frankie sneezed. Sniffling pitifully, she asked, "What is it?"

Lowering his hand, he illuminated a detail on the front of the desk. Two sharp, intertwining letters spelled simply "XS." "It was from the Alien Encounter preshow. Which means that behind it should be…" He whipped the flashlight up to reveal something slumped over. It looked skeletal, but it had a gold and black metallic form that glittered in the artificial glow.

Frankie peered closely at it. "Is—is it…dead?"

Shaking his head, Isaac briskly stepped behind the limp form. "Not dead, just off." He tried opening up the thing's eyes, but they remained firmly shuttered closed. "I wonder…"

Tentatively exploring the area, the princess found another tube to the right of the counter. Something was curled up in it, but despite pressing her face against the glass, she couldn't make out what it was in the dark. Turning, she could see another cylinder on the other side. "Isaac this place creeps me out!"

"Just a second," he grumbled, his speech muffled. "I think I can get him workin' again!" Holding the flashlight in his mouth, he tinkered in the back of the still robot's skull. "Ha! I've got it! They don't call me 'The Wizard' for nothing!" Holding up two wires, he smugly chanted, "Higitus figitus!" In a flash of sparks as the wires connected, the techno savvy C. M. was flung to the floor in a twitching, coughing heap.

With a whir, the machine jerked to life. It opened its yellow round eyes and surveyed the couple suspiciously. Then it lifted its arms and smoothly waggled each of its ten, long black fingers.

Patting out the smoke coming from the tips of his hair, Isaac wheezed, "Just needed some love!" Proud and grinning from ear to ear, he pushed himself up and sauntered over to the awakened audio animatronic. "How're you doing?"

The metal man dropped his large jaw and droned, "Wel-wel-wel-wel-wel-welcome, to X. S.! Hmm." After working his mouth around for a moment, he cheerfully greeted, "Hello! I'm S. I. R. You might remember me from such past attractions as The ExtraTERRORestial Alien Encounter!" Then he shut his mouth, his mechanics buzzing like a hive of hornets. When he spoke again, it was in a low, British accented baritone voice rather than the upbeat American one. "Oooh," he groaned. "My aching receptors."

Clicking and whirring, he looked at each cast member. "Goodness gracious me! Hmm hmm, visitors! And who might you darling young Earthlings be?" He chuckled, a dark nasal sound.

"Greetings! I'm Isaac and this is Francine. I was wondering if maybe you could tell us where we could find a special object."

Frankie leaned close to Isaac and hissed, "How would be know, though? He's been a defunct animatronic for a few years now."

"_Audio _animatronic," the robot corrected. "But you can call me S. I. R."

"Sir?" asked Frankie.

Snootily, he explained, "That's S. I. R." tapping the air for each letter. "It stands for Simulated Intelligence Robotics."

A light, shuddering at first but quickly stabilizing, turned on above the first small glass tube. Inside a creature, peach and fuzzy, lay curled up, snoring softly. When Frankie couldn't help but let out a little coo of "Aw!" at the sight of him, he slowly raised his head, revealing a long, elephant like snout. Blinking his big black eyes blearily, he twitched his antenna forward and sat on his haunches. Putting four purple paws to the glass, he squeaked.

"Ugh," S. I. R. groaned, disgusted. "You woke him up."

In a soft burble, the creature mumbled in its squeaky language.

"What do you want, Skippy?!" S. I. R. shouted.

"Eberrt ishIwannagetowt."

"Aww, now why would you want out? Don't you want to stay with me, your best friend?" the ominous automaton gushed.

Shaking his head furiously and shrieking, Skippy waved his four arms in a wild "No!" gesture.

"Oh, look at his enthusiasm!" S. I. R. pretended to ignore Skippy's insult. "Isn't he just precious? I just love little Scrubby so much that I think I'll give him a treat." Searching among the expansive control panel, S. I. R. found a button and pleasantly pushed it, beaming.

"Ah," S. I. R. sighed, "the wonders of the X. S. Tech teleportation technology." In Skippy's tube, the lights began to flash.

"Uh oh!" Skippy burbled.

"This is phase one of the process," S. I. R. explained. "Our little friend is broken down into a mass of molecules, and I send those molecules through the air above your heads, and reconstruct them in the tube over here as good as new." With a screech of protest, Skippy vanished. "Now the disintegration into molecular components." He looked up and Frankie and Isaac did too.

"Wonkavision!" Isaac pointed.

"Oh, poor Skippy!" Frankie cried.

"Don't worry, it's practically painless," S. I. R. assured her right before the invisible, hovering Skippy bits began screaming. "And now the second phase. The molecules are beamed to the receiving chamber where atom by atom we reconstruct our carefree traveler." The other tube filled with smoke and flashing lights. From his feet up, a shadow of Skippy appeared. As his form became more solid, the smoke began to clear.

Now visible, Skippy's eyes were rolling around in his head and he hacked out high-pitched coughs. His peach fur was smoldering and he glowed as if he'd become radioactive.

"And here's the little Skipper now." Somehow managing to look sarcastic without proper mouth muscles or even eyebrows, S. I. R. waved Skippy's whines of pain aside with a casual flick of the wrist. "Don't worry Scruffy, you're not burned; you've just got a healthy glow."

Running over to the clear container, Frankie tried her best to soothe Skippy with a sympathetic look and a caring hand placed on the glass. He put his paw in the middle of her palm and whimpered. "How could you be so cruel?" she demanded, glaring fiercely at S. I. R. "What has this little guy ever done to you? He's got more life and a greater soul than you can ever have, you heartless collection of cogs!"

Isaac looked from S. I. R. to Skippy and Frankie. He'd never thought of the jokes as malicious before. During the preshow, all of the torture at the cuddly alien's expense had been funny to him. These were just machines after all, weren't they? He thought back to their meeting with the Representatives and what Frankie had asked just minutes earlier.

Standing by Frankie's side, he gave Skippy an encouraging lopsided smile. No, they weren't just robots. If John's grief was any indication, yes, they did feel pain. "Hang in there, Skippy."

"Oh, I know what this is!" S. I. R. just oozed condescension. "This is that 'compassion'," he made quote marks with his fingers, "thing you humans are so well known for. Delightful! I'd doubted it even existed." He grinned.

"I'm so moved by this that I'll ask you what it is you need help finding and I'll do my best to get it for you!"

The cast members were too busy thanking S. I. R. to notice Skippy waving his arms again.

"It's a scroll," Frankie explained. "The Scroll of the Scholar. We don't know much about it."

"Well, let me see what I can do for you!" S. I. R. pushed a series of buttons. The lights went off, leaving them with nothing but the flashlight beam. Nearby, there was a low, metal shriek, like a manhole cover being slid aside.

Skippy hid his face under his paws. "Uh oh!"

"What was that?" asked Isaac worriedly.

S. I. R. chuckled, a low rumble in his short, hollow throat. "Oh, I see you shiver in antici…"

Heavy footsteps plodded in their direction, making the two mortals turn, their pounding hearts almost drowning out the thuds.

"Not good!" Isaac's voice cracked. "Definitely not good! Stairs! Head for the stairs!" They booked, pushing the sound of flapping wings out of their minds. All they focused on was the flight to safety.

Merely a couple of feet away from their escape, an eight-foot tall monstrosity landed heavily, its weight making the floor tremble.

"…pation. Oh, dear," the robot drawled, "I seem to have accidentally let out my old friend. My, how did _that _happen? Oh well."

Lobster like claws snapped in their faces threateningly, a silent assertion that this thing could indeed snap their necks in twain and would _love_ to oblige. Drool dripped down its lower jaw as it hissed and showed off its impressive fangs. Neither the long, reptilian face nor the bright red eyes showed any emotion other than an insatiable primal hunger. Pupils, black and narrow like a viper's, fixated on the two cast members as a low growl rumbled in its brown, shelled chest. Its body was like that of a roach, with multiple strong legs helping to hold its bizarrely lengthy body upright.

The humans stood frozen in fear as the alien bent down and sniffed them. It snorted, splattering Frankie and Isaac. "Mmm." A pointed tongue slid out and licked its lipless muzzle. Chattering like a swarm of cicadas, it opened its mouth again, this time wide enough to show off multiple rows of teeth. Then it suddenly shrieked an unearthly howl, flaring tattered fins that had laid flat against its neck and around its head.

With a claw, it broke the flashlight Isaac held, leaving them in darkness. Then, with another eerie battle cry, launched into the air.

It wasn't content with just a meal. It wanted to play with its prey first!

S. I. R. cackled. "_Bon voyage_!"

* * *

A/N: Kudos to people who picked up the _Kingdom Keepers _references in the last chapter! 

Some of S. I. R.'s dialogue is from the Alien Encounter show.

Although the attraction is now Stitch's Great Escape, Skippy does have a cameo in the preshow.

Trivia Time: Lines specifically attributed to two certain actors are said by S. I. R. in the chapter. One is the late great Phil Hartman, who voiced the character when the show opened. The other is Tim Curry, who voiced the malicious mechanical man after the attraction went into refurbishment in the mid '90s.


	8. Monster Phone Home

The black beast whinnied, but it was far from a happy horse knicker. It was low in the throat and gravely, like a cement mixer growling. Its red eyes rolled madly in its head and foam frothed at the lips. Taking up his wicked blade in his right hand, the headless rider cackled, swinging the sword madly.

"Why couldn't _Ghostbusters _have been a Disney movie?" Jake moaned.

"Well, we gotta call someone else!" Liberty snapped as they began backing up.

But as Liberty continued to search for a way out, Jake stopped. A light bulb seemed to go off over his mop top head. "We shouldn't be scared of no ghosts!" he declared, grinning.

"What are you, delusional?"

"No! I mean, remember the movie?"

"Yeah, but, what's that—"

"This isn't the headless horseman!" Jake gestured, scoffing.

The horse suddenly stopped, swiveling his ears back with little snorts. Rolling his eyes back, he looked up at his master. The horseman, remaining silent, paused as if waiting for the skipper's reasoning. Putting the sword back into its holster, he waited, arms crossed and fingers tapping out a steady, quiet beat on his arm.

"Yeah!" Jake babbled, putting his train of thought on a track. "Look how cheesy that costume is! It's just Brom! Remember? He dressed up as the horseman to scare poor Ichabod!" Staring the horseman in the general area where his eyes would have been, he pointed and snarled, "The jig is up, Bones! You don't frighten us! Who do you think we are, a couple of your dumb, hick buddies?"

A baritone voice drawled from somewhere on their left, "Aw, y'all found me out! Shucks, I was hopin' to spook some Cast Members, and dagblummit, I finally get the chance, and you done figured it out 'afore I could even make my entrance!" Stepping out from behind the bushes, the strapping, buff Brom Bones dejectedly took the jack-o-lantern off of his head. "And I do take offense, sir! Just because my buddies and I were raised on farms does not mean we are intellectually challenged!"

Liberty's jaw dropped. "Oh, that's not good!" she moaned, putting her face in her palm.

Head whipping back and forth from one Character to the other in sheer bewilderment, Jake whimpered, "But…Uh…Brom… If you're over there…" He pointed. "And the horseman is over here…" He pointed dumbly again. "And Miami, party capitol of the U. S. is somewhere in this general region of the Sun Shine State…" He jerked his thumb behind him. "Then who is…" Paling, he muttered, "Oh crud. Mr. Horseman," he giggled nervously. "I hope you're not angry about that dumb 'cheesy' comment, 'cause, uh, looking now you look just…fantastic, really! It was just a trick of the light, ya know?"

The horseman tore out his sword once more, raised it high and laughed a bone-chilling laugh that echoed into the night, sending squirrels, bunnies, and other park wildlife, scampering for cover. The massive stallion reared up, its unearthly cries making Liberty, Jake, and even Brom bolt.

"Yeah, I'd say he's mad!" Liberty shot at Jake.

"Look at it this way," Jake replied optimistically, "we're at an advantage!"

"Oh yeah? How?"

"He has no head. So he has no eyes! We just… RUN LIKE CRAZY FROM THE BLIND MAN!"

Brom, running in between them, laughed, "Ain't gotta outrun the horseman, boy," he wisely told Jake. "Just gotta outrun you!" Holding his hand out to Liberty, he smugly asked, "Would the pretty little lady like me to whisk her away from this horrible monster? I'm sure this cretin is just after your dull witted friend."

"Dull witted?" Jake cried. "This comes from the guy who thinks churning butter is a sport! 'Oh, lookit me!'" he drawled. "'My hair is silky and shiny and flows in the wind!'"

Imitating his twang, Liberty gushed, "Why I would love to accompany you, Brom!" She didn't even look at Jake, whose expression was nothing but hurt and anguish. Clasping Bones' hand with both of hers, she grasped him tightly.

"You've got a mighty grip there, darlin'!"

"That I do!" she replied. Then she spun and shoved him, pushing him back into the horseman. Plowing into the malicious ghost, the jock got a good trampling and sent the stallion into a stumble.

Eyes wide and mouth agape, Jake turned to Liberty. For once, he was at a loss for a smart comment. "Have I told you just how awesome you are?" he breathed.

"Today? Or just in general?" she joked coolly. But had it been brighter out, her blush would have been evident.

Looking back, she noticed the horse was untangling its legs from around the battered Brom Bones. The headless Hessian dug his spurs into the stallion's side, urging him up.

"Let's save the compliments for a better time!" Grabbing Jake's hand, she ran with him down the street.

* * *

The flapping of huge, tattered, bat like wings echoed above Frankie and Isaac. Although they were blind in the darkness, their other senses were on hyper alert. Together, they made a mad dash for the stairs, feeling what had to be the tips of claws brushing against the top of their heads.

Once it grasped at them and they ducked out of the way. They could feel the bursts of air from its leathery wings as it shot up again, preparing to take another dive at the teenagers.

Isaac's toes hit the middle of the bottom step and he fell, hitting the cement hard with his chin. "Ow! Sonovabith! I bith my thung!" There was a nearby _smack_, but he ignored it. Chest and chin stinging, he pushed himself up and bounded up the stairs, pulling himself along with the handrail. Panting, he got to the door and grabbed the handle.

But he couldn't turn it.

Frankie… He turned and waved his arm in the air next to him. She hadn't kept up! Where was she?!

From the bottom of the steps, he heard a soft moan, and a quiet, "Oww…" Then he remembered the smacking sound he had heard after he fell.

She'd tripped over him! She'd tripped on him and he'd kept running!

"Frankie!" he hissed. "Get up here!"

Bouncing from foot to foot, he listened for her footsteps, hand still tightly holding the doorknob. He was so close to being out of there! What if he just left? She'd be all right, right? He could come back with help. And if the alien flew out, then all the better. Everyone else would have to deal with it. It was Disney's problem they had that menace, not his!

"Hey, you're not just going to let her die, are you?"

"Huh?" Looking to his left, he saw a little glowing being, a tiny version of him in a white robe, holding a golden harp. Tiny feathery wings twitched in agitation. "Holy conscience cliché, Batman!"

"Don't try to use outdated comic book talk on me! You and I need to have a little heart to heart!" The angel smacked Isaac's cheek with his harp.

"Uhh…" Frantically, the Cast Member wondered how this was even possible. Then he remembered he was in a Disney theme park where the robots and cartoon characters were coming to life and he was on a quest to find a magical scroll the save the world from some unknown evil. Oh, and he was apparently a wizard or something. In that light, a couple of physical manifestations of his subconscious—particularly a cliché Disney had used who knew how many times--were perfectly reasonable, even if they were annoying.

But that didn't mean he actually wanted anything to do with them. He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "And cue our devil in three…two…one!"

In a puff of crimson smoke, an equally small devil, mini Isaac in a red leotard with horns, a spiked tail, and a pitchfork, appeared on his right. "Don't listen to him! He wants to lead you down the path of righteousness. I'm gonna lead you down the path that rocks!" He did the devil horns symbol with his hand, and then pretended to play his pitchfork like a guitar, tongue sticking out.

"This is sounding all too familiar…"

"I'll give you three reasons why you should just ditch 'er," continued the devil. "One, you could die if you don't leave. Two, it's not like she cares about you. None of these guys like you and you know it. Reason number three, look what I can do!" He held his left hand up, fingers straight up, and bent his pinky down. Not only could he do this without having to bend his ring finger, but then he flicked the tip of it with his right index finger, making the pinky flick up and down as if it didn't have any bones. "Ha ha!"

Isaac curled his lip. "But what does that have to do with any—"

The angel stared, transfixed. "Eww! That's really gross!" He flew over to the devil's shoulder and started trying to do the trick himself. When he failed, he kept flicking the devil's pinky. "Are you double jointed?"

Exhaling in exasperation, Isaac groaned, "You guys aren't helping. Just…be gone. Or however it is I get rid of you!"

"That'll work!" And with a cloud of blue and red smoke, they vanished.

With an inward groan, he gritted his jaw and jogged back down the stairs, careful not to fall.

From somewhere above him, he heard a _WHOOSH!_ and then a screech as the alien dove down again. But this time, Isaac could hear it hiss in delight as it snatched a prize and hauled it up in the air with it.

"Frankie!" he cried.

* * *

"YEEAH-HA-HA-HA-HA!"

"You ever wonder how he laughs with no vocal chords?" asked Jake, joking despite having to pant heavily.

Liberty didn't have time to laugh as she searched for a place to go. "How do we ditch this dead man?"

"You're asking me? You're the history buff! But we need an idea soon! I don't know how much longer I can keep this up!"

Rushing into the outdoor dining area of the Columbia Harbour House, they dodged between chairs and ducked under tables. They crouched on the pavement, taking cover under a table. Taking a moment to catch their breaths as the horseman tried plow through the furniture, Liberty wracked her brain. What had happened in the story? Where did Ichabod go? He had to cross something…Cross…

Suddenly, she could hear the words of Brom Bones in her mind… "For once you cross that bridge my friend, the ghost is through! His power ends!"

"Bridge!" she blurted out. "The bridge! The Horseman can't cross the bridge! And running water! Evil spirits can't cross running water!"

"Heh, I hated baths too when I was little."

"You can still crack jokes at a time like this?" she snapped back.

"I can't help it!" cried Jake. "It's a compulsion!" Grabbing her shoulders, he screamed, "I have a condition!"

She slapped him. "You're going to have a condition called 'decapitation' if you don't get a grip!"

"I don't think I deserved that. What is it with redheads and slapping people?"

He hardly had time to rub his cheek before the tip of the horseman's blade was thrust through the tabletop. They scrambled out and ran again as the ghost struggled to pull out his sword. Trying to be helpful for once, Jake breathed, "All I can think of is Tom Sawyer's Island! But there's no way we can get down there!" Suddenly his eyes lit up. "There's the covered walkway between Liberty Square and Adventureland! It's practically a bridge! A bridge between lands!"

"Okay," she consented. "That could work. But what about running water?"

He grinned, as if he'd just thought up a brilliant joke. "The bathrooms are in there! Between those and the water fountains, there's got to be miles of pipes full of water under the ground!"

This time she was more skeptical at first. But she shrugged. She was willing to try just about anything at this point. "Sounds good."

They barely kept up ahead of the black stallion as they passed The Country Bear Jamboree. They could hear it snorting behind them as its breath rose from its nostrils in a supernatural steam. Its foul stench made the hairs on their necks rise.

As the demon rider raised his sword high, help came unexpectedly as Wendell poked his scruffy head out of Grizzly Hall. "What in tarnation is goin' on?" The little bear watched as the two humans ran past. "Now you spooks know you ain't 'sposed to go 'round chasin' folks and terrorizin' 'em! What do you think this is, Halloween Horror Nights?" With all the strength in his stubby, furry arm, he flung his mandolin and clocked the horseman on the hand, knocking the sword from his grasp.

"Thanks, El Kabong!" Jake waved.

"Y'all welcome!" Wendell called to the Cast Members. "I swear," he grumbled, retreating backstage. "I know there's nine hundred and ninety-nine of them, but Gracey needs to keep a handle on his crew! Heck, even us bears know better than to run out and try eatin' people!"

The headless Hessian didn't bother to grab his blade as he saw it clatter on the street. With a frustrated moan, he continued on. His momentary pause, however, had given Liberty and Jake the headway they needed. Taking a sharp left, they ran under the covered walkway next door to Grizzly Hall. Not stopping until they had passed the ATM, the bathrooms, and had touched down onto the pebble and tile dotted Adventureland walkway, they panted hard as their hearts pounded, drowning out the sound of the hoof beats.

Watching him as they caught their breath, they waited to see what he would do.

The horseman charged his horse forward, but it reared up, refusing to take one step onto the bridge. The steed nervously stepped back and forth. His master groaned in wordless rage.

Liberty laughed out of sheer exhaustion and relief. "Oh man. I almost thought we wouldn't make it."

Jake put a hand on her shoulder, grinning. "What? You didn't have any faith in me?" he asked sarcastically.

She smiled and opened her mouth to reply, but before she could get out any words, her eyes grew wide and her jaw hung open. She was watching the Headless Horseman. "Jake…"

Not seeing her, he turned to the horseman, and mocked, "What're you going to do now, tough guy? You ain't got jack—"

The ghost reached into his riding satchel and pulled out a pumpkin. As if by magic, it ignited in flame. Its grinning face glowed in the night.

"O lantern?" Jake squeaked.

"Jake! Duck!" she screamed and tackled him.

A flaming Jack-O-Lantern sailed over their heads before crashing into one of the Flying Carpets of Aladdin. They looked over at the little carousel, watching chunks of splattered pumpkin fall harmlessly to the ground.

"Take that, Dumbo 2.0!" Jake shouted, shaking a fist.

"HA-HA-HA-HA-HAA!" The malevolent ghost gave one final maniacal cackle before vanishing in a swirl of mist.

"Well, that was random." Jake grunted as Liberty helped him up. "You tackle like a linebacker."

"Sorry." The redhead brushed some dirt off his arms. "I don't think it was random. Something wants this as much as we do." She waved the scroll. "Which means Frankie and Isaac might be in trouble, too. Let's go find them and head out. I'd hate to run into something like that again, and you know this place will have its share of baddies." She shivered, although if it was from anxiety or chills, she didn't know.

Noticing her tremble, the skipper put an arm around her shoulder. "They're probably in Tomorrowland by now. We'll give them a call to make sure they're okay. I can't think of anything there that would hurt them."

* * *

Isaac stood, frozen in fear and bewilderment. Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion. His heart pounded and his breath came in deep, slow gasps. Nearby, he could hear the flapping of massive, leathery wings as it worked to make itself airborne with its new, heavy load. Hauling himself up using the handle of the stairwell, he brought himself about halfway up. Tensing his muscles, he moaned, "Why does the universe always pick on _me_, for the Force's sake! I'm not a bad person! Oh well, here goes nothing!" With a flying leap he launched his body over the railing and onto the back of the alien.

At first it bucked wildly like a bronco. The Cast Member held tight with one hand, grasping one of the monster's horns. The other arm waved uselessly in the air as he tried to squirm out of his backpack. It was hard work. The monster shrieked and screamed, flailing madly.

Bouncing up and down on the jagged spine, Isaac grimaced. "I wish I had a saddle!" he squeaked.

Clenching his knees tight around the alien's midsection, he reached into his backpack and pulled out his laptop. With a heavy sigh, he gave it one last forlorn look and kissed it. Then he held it high above his head and then brought it down hard on the creature's skull. It writhed in pain, flinging Isaac off and dropping Frankie.

"AIIGH!" Isaac smacked into the base of Skippy's tube.

"Izza irk?" the fuzzy alien asked, pressing his long-nosed face against the glass.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Isaac waved it off. With an urge from intuition, he ducked and rolled away to Frankie's side. A half of laptop crashed into Skippy's cage, creating a web of cracks that ran up like raindrops in reverse on a windshield. It splintered until a large, jagged piece broke off. Skippy jumped out of the hole and onto the control panel.

S. I. R. whirred and clicked in the darkness. "Get away, you fuzzy cretin!" He took a swipe at him, missing completely. Skippy jumped and bounced on the buttons and pulled levers, springing around frantically as he dodged S. I. R.'s grasp. With a grunt, he grabbed hold of one knob and pulled. Wheezing and rasping, he tugged and tugged. Then, exhausted, he collapsed on it. The knob pushed in and the lights turned on. Skippy looked around, grinning and pleased with himself.

"Good job, Skippy!" Isaac cheered.

Frankie opened her eyes. Squinting in the light, she moaned softly. "Oh, my head. I feel like I smacked it into a wall." She pushed herself up.

"It was a floor," Isaac told her helpfully. "Now quick, let's get out before—"

A pained shriek jolted them up. Behind them, the alien cowered in a corner, clutching its skull. Its wings beat and flapped, whipping up dust and debris. The force of it nearly knocked Isaac and Frankie off their feet. It screamed again, clawing at its own face.

"Great!" Isaac started to run back to the stairs. "C'mon, let's go!"

"No!"

He turned. "No? What do you mean, no! I knocked him senseless!" He laughed. With an audacity he wouldn't have had a minute ago, he strode towards the alien. "What's-a-matter, E. T.? Did you get beat by the puny Earthling?"

It turned its eyes to him and whimpered. As Isaac drew nearer, it hid behind its wings and cried again.

"Isaac!" Frankie grabbed his shoulder. "It's not…It's…" Helplessly, she sputtered, "Don't you know what that sound is?" The young man shook his head haltingly. Frankie knew the sound. It came in different voices, different pitches, different languages. On nights her parents fought the worst, she made that sound, cowering under her bed sheets, a flashlight in one hand with a plush Mickey tucked under her arm. "It's the sound of fear."

"But what does he have to be afraid of?" snapped Isaac. "What—what are you doing! Don't go near him!"

But by the time the words were out, Frankie was already beside the beast. It tried to hide itself behind its legs and wings, flinching pathetically like a kicked dog. She reached out a shaking hand and gently touched its head. Although it shut its eyes tightly, it didn't flinch.

_Pain!_

With a gasp, she yanked her arm back. "He—He talked!"

Isaac furrowed a brow and gave her an odd look. "I didn't hear anything."

"But he did!" Frankie asserted frantically. "He said, 'pain!' It was in my head!" she tapped her temple. "He must be tele…telepatho…Oh what's the word?"

S. I. R. spoke up from his desk. "Telepathic." He groaned. "Surely you humans have some knowledge of life forms from other worlds." When he was met with silence, he gave an annoyed groan. "Our friend here is from a species that communicates its thoughts through touch." His large, lower jaw hung down in a pout. "And he would have eaten you alive had the jolt to his brain not unscrambled his mind."

The teenagers gave him a blank stare.

S. I. R. sighed. "When our brute was teleported in, his mind was altered, making him confused, angry, and aggressive. Unfortunately, he is now quite himself again, and my fun is over." He crossed his arms and turned away with a huffy sigh.

"Your fun?" Isaac screamed. "We were nearly killed! Why did you do this? What purpose did it serve?"

Standing straight, hands behind his back, the robot sneered, "That information is classified!"

Frankie frowned and put her palm on the creature's shoulder. He nuzzled his forehead against her hip and purred. "You're working for somebody. Who is it?"

"Unauthorized access!" S. I. R. bellowed. "Immediate self shut down in pro-cess!" Ignoring protests from the Cast Members, his eyes dimmed and shut and his metal body went slack. They watched the gold and black android in the hopes he would whirr back to life. He didn't move. Skippy even clambered up on top of him and jumped up and down on his head.

With an affirmative nod, the little alien declared, "Izza-out coooold!"

"Someone set this up," Isaac mumbled. "S. I. R. didn't act on his own." He shifted his backpack, missing the weight of his computer. "My dad's gonna kill me. I'll have to pay for a whole new one myself. All those files I had saved…" He continued ranting on. When he took out his Mountain Dew for a sip, the soda sprayed everywhere. "And my drink's all shook up and—Ugh!—My hands'll be all sticky! For the love of Obi-Wan, can this night get worse!"

Frankie listened good-naturedly, letting him gripe. She was thinking of interrupting him to remind him they had to go, but then the giant bug put a claw very loosely around her arm. He wasn't going to snap it; he just wanted her to stay and listen.

_Home! _he pleaded. _Please, I want to go home. It's painful here… I miss my mate_, _my young, my home! Please!_

She nodded, pushing away the memories of the attack. As hideous as he was, with his bulging red eyes and dribbling jaw, he was no bloodthirsty monster. Well, not now anyway. "We'll send you home." She patted the top of his scaly head. A fleck of dead exoskeleton came off on her palm. Mustering a smile, she flailed her hand behind her until the bit of skin fell off.

"What?" Isaac interrupted himself. "What's the problem now?"

"He needs to get back to his planet," she explained, gesturing to the giant alien.

Isaac rolled his eyes. "Frankie, he was built for this show. He doesn't come from a real planet! He's just wires and gizmos!"

The alien snarled. Frankie kept him at bay with a soothing touch. "How can you be so ignorant?" Her sharp tone caught him by surprise. "Skippy risked his life to save us." Skippy stood proudly on his bottom two legs while the top four hands were braced on his sides in a Superman pose. "And this poor…thing is homesick."

When Isaac opened his mouth to argue, she continued. "I know it doesn't make much sense. At least, to me it doesn't. But these guys are alive. It's all real. He's real. And if he's real, then his planet must be too." She bit her bottom lip. "Please Isaac. Who's it going to hurt if we help?"

"Imagineering might be ticked their alien went missing." He sighed, unable to meet her gaze. "Fine. We'll get the teleportation tube working and send him back."

"Oh, thank you!" She lunged forward and hugged him.

Isaac stood stiffly, arms up, with a bewildered look on his face. "Uh, sure, you're welcome." After she let go, he went to the machine. With the exception of the gaping hole in the glass, it was intact. A rope of wires, he noted, were connected back into S. I. R.'s control panel. He slipped behind the desk. "Creepy, S. I. R. has no legs."

As Frankie and the aliens looked on anxiously, Isaac browsed through the buttons. Spotting a red one with "MAIN TELE." he mumbled, "Sounds right," and gave it a push.

Nothing happened.

"Poopie," he muttered. He jabbed it again and again and again. "Why isn't this working?"

Skippy bounded over to the machine and gave it a sniff. Then he hopped over to the wall. He picked up a fat, three-pronged plug and stuck it into a socket. After a flare of sparks and a sizzle of electricity, the teleportation device hummed to life.

Frankie scratched the fur behind Skippy's antennae. "Good boy! You're such a smarty!"

Skippy giggled and blushed. "Aww, shucks! Ishsa do mibest." He shuffled a foot.

On the control panel, a screen turned on. It was a green lined on black background grid. The shape of the tube was outlined on it. Coordinates appeared. Underneath them were numbers. 1:00. It ticked down to 0:59…then 0:58…0:57…

"You have less than a minute!" Isaac warned. "Better get in quick! Coordinates at oh-six, two-oh, one-nine-nine-five! That sound right?"

The creature nodded and ambled forward. Then he hesitated and whimpered.

"It's all right," Frankie reassured him. "You're not going to blow up this time. I promise. Isaac's got you covered." She smiled. "Go on!"

"Thirty-four seconds!" Isaac barked.

With his mandible gritted in determination, the giant bug skittered in. He gave a screech for good-bye and shut his eyes tightly. Isaac crossed his fingers, hoping this wouldn't result in the original show's ending. He glanced down at the grid. Ten seconds…

Fog billowed up around the alien. Flashing strobe lights hid him from view. Was it going to go right this time?

He howled and screamed and flailed his legs madly. Frankie and Isaac held their breaths. Skippy said a fast prayer in his native tongue.

Then with a whirr, a whoosh, and a BLAM, the alien vanished completely.

No body parts or blood flew. He had really been teleported!

"You did it!" Frankie cheered. Skippy clapped and pumped his little fists in the air.

Isaac finally exhaled. His head was in a whirl. "It really worked!" He grinned. "Go me!"

"Yes," Frankie laughed. "Go you!"

* * *

His claws touched down on soft earth and the scents of flowers and mold filled his nostrils. Familiar chirps and cries filled the air. He screeched questioningly. An answering bellow called back. He ran forward, bellowing happily, and his cries were echoed back to him. Tearing through the orange and yellow underbrush, he collided into another of his kind. Crying, she wrapped her legs around him and they tumbled on the ground, cooing and nuzzling. A group of identical creatures, only a third of their parents' size, bounded and leaped onto the mass of embraces and tears.

Home! He was home!

* * *

As Frankie and Isaac exited the basement, they took in big gulps of the cool, night air. It had been sorely missed in that stuffy cellar. Skippy hung on her back with his arms loosely wrapped around her neck. He nuzzled her cheek and then jumped onto Isaac's shoulders. He embraced his whole face in a hug.

"Yeah, I'll mif you toof, 'Iffy!" Isaac mumbled through peach fur.

Frankie picked up the cuddly alien and hugged him tightly before setting him on the ground. "Thank you so much for all of your help. We couldn't have done it without you."

Skippy waved it away. "Aww, essh ickkinuh-hin!"

"Well, it certainly was something to us." She bent down and kissed the top of his head. "Take care, Skippy! We'll see you soon!" She waved to him as he bounded away.

There was a crash as he knocked over a Churro cart and raided it. He managed to wave back at them as he hobbled away with his arms full of treats.

Isaac finally spoke up. "I wonder if the others had any luck."

Right on cue, Frankie's cell phone rang out the tune, "A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes." "That's Libby," she affirmed, flicking the phone open. "What's up? You're never going to believe…Whoa…All right. We're on our way!"

After Frankie stuck the phone back in her pocket, Isaac asked, "What happened?"

"Something about a horseman. They're over in Adventureland now." She grinned, hardly able to contain her excitement. "And they have the scroll! Let's go!" She grabbed his wrist and dragged him behind.

Narrowing eyes took in the scene, and a snarl emanated from unseen lips.

* * *

A/N: A huge, huge thank you to Werecat Boy and Lyger 0 for help with ideas and editing!

Of course, can't go without noting the reference and blatant use of the joke from _The Emperor's New Groove._

Thank you so much everyone for all of the kind reviews!


	9. You Can't Reason with a Headless Man

Master George Gracey casually sauntered out of the Haunted Mansion's exit, making his way through the crypt. He hummed along with the Phantom Five's harmonic rendition of the end of "Grim Grinning Ghosts," hardly able to contain his pleasure at the evening's events. After Liberty and Jake left, he made a special visit to see Madame Leota. Through the walls, he had heard some faint commotion coming from the street, but paid little mind to it. He was all too used to the sounds of the swinging wakes taking place both inside and outside of the possessed manor.

As he passed the pet cemetery, he made a point to give a scratch behind some ethereal ears and paused to bow in front of the marker for J. Thaddeus Toad. Although his old friend was indeed alive and well, he did miss his presence in the Magic Kingdom. Gracey considered the eccentric amphibian a kindred spirit. He had fond memories of taking motorcars out for wild rides at night much to the chagrin of McBadger, who didn't hold with associating with dead people. They belonged in the ground, he believed, not on the streets of the living wrecking havoc. As MacBadger said, the financial repercussions could be "cat-a-strrrrrophic!"

Gracey had to smile at the memories. Ah, MacBadger. Owl just wasn't quite the same. The Ghost Host frowned. Nor was Winnie the Pooh as fun as Mr. Toad. He didn't like hijacking Captain Nemo's submarines and scaring the giant squid, for starters. Toad was always up for that.

"_It's progress, Gracey. Progress."_

The ghost shook his head, not wanting to even think about losing his friend John. "I am not going to allow that to happen." Making his way down the lane to Fantasyland, he was stopped by the overpowering stench. "Good heavens!" he waved his hand in front of his face. "That's deadly. Phineas, have you been eating the tacos in Adventureland again?"

Looking from side to side, he waited for a reply. Just the chirping of crickets and the distant whistle of Big Thunder Mountain Railroad answered. He pursed his pale lips and twitched them, disappointed no one was around to hear his remarks. "Hmm," he inhaled, "that's brimstone."

Sniffing, he followed the scent past the Liberty Tree Tavern and the Columbia Harbor House. Tables and chairs were overturned and some pieces of furniture were even broken. "What in the Walt Disney World…" Scorched into the street were hoof prints leading up to, through, and around the disheveled patios.

Further on, at a side entrance into Adventureland, he found the shattered remains of a pumpkin. Crouched down beside the mess, he picked up a gooey, orange chunk. The edges were burnt, black and crispy. "Someone has been mistreating jack-o-lanterns." He arched an eyebrow and chuckled low in his throat. "And of course that could only be the calling card of…" He stood up, and fists at his side bellowed, "Horseman!" Remembering the pumpkin bits, he took a silk handkerchief out of his sleeve and daintily wiped his fingers.

Flames shot up in the center of Liberty Square, throwing deformed shadows across the street. Out of the midst of the fire stepped the black steed of the Hessian. Its hooves left sparks as red as its eyes. As the fire subsided, the Headless Horseman mutely leaned down towards the Ghost Host. His thick leather gloves creaked when he tightened his grip on the reins.

"Splendid show, old boy!" Master Gracey clapped softly. "It's no Wishes or Fantasmic to be certain, but I give it a seven out of ten."

From within the dark void of the Horseman's being came a guttural hiss. "_Herr _Gracey, I am not summoned forth on foolish whims, nor must I answer to the call of a clownish spirit."

"Clownish?" George giggled and put his hand on his chest in mock shock. "Dear sir, you flatter me! Not in all of my after life have I ever thought I was as frightening as any clown. No one will believe you said that. I might have to ask you to pass the word around yourself." He smiled, his expression identical to his portrait. "As much as I wish this were merely a friendly chat between two souls, I have more pressing matters to discuss." Gesturing to the smashed fruit, he continued, "This, if I'm not mistaken--and I assure you I'm not-- is yours. Didn't your mother ever teach you to clean up your messes? Tut-tut!" he waved a finger.

The Headless Horseman shifted in his saddle. "There are no rules that state I cannot roam as you do."

The smile became a frown and Gracey's tone grew darker. "No, but seeing you is a rare event. Normally, you only come out on Halloween."

With a deep belly laugh, the Hessian slapped his thigh. Joining his master, the stallion whinnied and stamped his feet, snorting equine chuckles. "_Herr_ Gracey, you are an entertaining man, indeed. Surely you do not take offense at me checking up on my favorite funnel cake stand, eh?"

Gracey laughed with him, finishing with a gusty sigh and a wipe of his tearless eye. "Yes, I suppose I was being rather silly, wasn't I?" He braced a palm against the stallion's broad side.

"Don't touch the horse."

He yanked his hand back. "Horseman, as thrilling as it is to pretend you aren't a bold-_faced_ liar," he paused to let the Hessian's anger flare, "allow me to cut to the… _chase_." Turning his head, he cast his bright blue gaze over the wreckage of the restaurant furniture. "I know you were hunting the Cast Members. Why?"

"You know very well the joy of scaring mortals."

"Scaring yes, attempting to disembowel, no." He glowered at the Headless Horseman. "This wasn't just supernatural shenanigans, not with these youths. You were sent after them." He crossed his arms over his chest, fingers tapping. "Who was it, Horseman?"

A growl echoed within the Headless Horseman's armor as if boiling up from the depths of Hell. The stallion took a few nervous steps back and forth, tossing his snorting head from side to side. Wielding his sword, the Horseman brought it to a halt at Master Gracey's neck.

The Ghost Host stood still, gaze never wavering from the demonic spirit.

After several moments, he grinned. "Come, come, good man, are you going to slice me or not? Don't leave me hanging. I haven't got all night, you know. Though I don't see much use in decapitating a dead man."

Drawing his blade back, the headless Hessian laughed. "Oh, _Herr _Gracey, I do like you, you know. Which is why it's such a shame I and my comrades will have to destroy your beautiful home. Unless," here was a pause, and you could well imagine a sly grin, "you would be open to persuasion. We all know the ghosts and pirates teeter, as it were, on that ledge between good and evil."

Gracey arched an eyebrow. "First you won't tell me what you're up to, now you're asking me to join you. Horseman, you're a terrible, terrible salesman," he shook his head with a chuckle. "And what would happen if I did join your vague," he rolled a hand, "evil quest? What do I get out of it?"

"Absolute power over the World? How does that sound?"

"Like an awful, boring chore, old sport," Master Gracey shook his head. "I have to look over 998 other spirits already on a daily basis, on top of the denizens of Liberty Square. Why for Walt's sake would I want to add to that? In order to ensure power, you have to keep things running, otherwise everyone revolts, there's lots of shouting and screaming and fighting. Bodies are left behind, which believe me stinks to the heavens, and you have to clean it up… No, it's far too much work, and I do enjoy my relaxation time. " Suddenly, he brightened. "I've taken up yoga! Does wonders for the soul. You may want to consider it. It could help with your aggression issues."

The Horseman sighed. "No, violently stabbing people and hurling flaming pumpkins has always been and always will be my outlet."

Gracey shrugged. "To each his own. And now old friend," he bowed, "seeing as how your lips are sealed, I must take my leave. Although, I do look forward to continuing this conversation in the future, hopefully sans threats."

"I make no guarantees. Perhaps, you should reconsider my offer. I would personally see to it your—how do you put it—happy haunting grounds are untouched."

"Hmm," Gracey placed his chin in his hand, "it _is _quite a bargain, but one I'm afraid I must pass up," he smirked. "You understand."

"I don't think I do, but if it makes you feel any better, at least you and your friends are already dead. HYAH!" With a sharp pull on the reins and a jab of spurs, the Hessian's beast shrieked and reared up on two legs. In an instant they were engulfed in flames and all that was heard was the echo of the Headless Horseman's laugh.

* * *

"I'm tellin' you what I saw, and what I saw was a headless feller swingin' a sword about and chasin' those kids!" Wendell held up his broken mandolin as proof.

Sitting around the table, Cinderella, Snow White, John, and Henry listened to the small bear's tale. Henry wrinkled his muzzle and cast an anxious glance over to Jose's empty perch. He hoped his little winged friend was safe. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the others taking worried looks at the chair or window as well. Had it been too long? Should they send for help? What in tarnation was going on?

"It isn't George's fault, though," Henry tried to reassure his friend. "Just because he's got jurisdiction over the area doesn't mean he can control everyone in it. He wouldn't just let that happen."

"I'm just sayin' it's suspicious. You know the ghosts aren't exactly heroes," Wendell huffed. "Where's he been anyway?" He tapped a foot, his claws clicking on the stone floor.

Cinderella was eager to change the tone of the discussion. "He's probably been consulting Leota."

"Consulting?" John chuckled. "Is that what they call it these days?"

Cinderella and Henry rolled their eyes while Snow White's face was blank. Then she blinked a couple of times, blushed, and then held her hand over her lips as she giggled.

"John…" Cinderella began in a half-hearted warning tone that had just a hint of a chortle.

"What?" Holding up his hands, he feigned innocence. "Snow laughed!"

"You're corrupting the poor girl."

"Oh, Snow's incorruptible. She lived with seven miners in a ramshackle cottage in the woods. Yet after all that, she doesn't spit, cuss, or even wear pants," he gestured to the young princess.

She, in turn, looked up from scratching under an arm pit. "What? Did someone say my name?"

Cinderella sighed and put her head in her hands. "If only the guys in marketing could see us now." Despite it all, she had to laugh. Whether or not it was from her genuinely finding it funny, needing the stress relief, or from exhaustion she didn't know. "New to hit shelves this spring, Disney Princess deodorant. I don't know what's worse, the fact I thought of that or the fact it's highly likely."

Without any announcement, Master Gracey literally strode through the door. "So sorry to be late—"

John tilted his head. "Is that a pun?"

"Might be, I'm not sure. I do it automatically anymore; I'm not even aware of it," the ghost explained breezily before sitting down. At the plucking of an off key string, he looked up. "Oh. Greetings Wendell. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Before he could start ranting, Henry stood up to interject. "Uh, my friend here says the—oh, what's his name?—No Headed Jockey—"

"Headless Horseman," George patiently corrected. "Tore through Liberty Square, I know," he sighed. "The damage, which is thankfully only property, will have to be taken care of before day break. I'll look into finding someone for that. Knowing the hitchhikers, they're not doing anything important." Placing an elbow on the table, chin in hand, and tapping his fingers on the heavy oak top, he scowled in thought.

When she felt the quiet had gone on for too long, Cinderella tentatively asked, "Did Madame Leota have any good news?"

He blinked, surprised he'd completely forgotten. "Oh yes," he grinned. "Our intrepid young friends have found the Scroll." Before any celebration could break out, he gravely added, "Unfortunately, it appears much more than the Headless Horseman will be pursuing them, if the few words I got out of him are trustworthy." He got up and went to a window. Pulling the red velvet curtain back, he scanned the park in hopes of seeing the four Cast Members. Down below, at the edge of Adventureland and Main Street U. S. A. he could just barely make out the quartet huddled together. "And unfortunately, I think they are."

Snow White wrung her dainty hands, peering over his shoulder. "Should we warn them?"

He let the curtain fall back. "I'm sure they've figured it out. Let them focus on their treasure hunt." He turned back to face the Representatives. "We have our own puzzle to solve: Who is the mastermind behind the attacks and the removal of the Carousel of Progress?"

Henry wrinkled his muzzle. "Well, villains a-course, right? Who else would it be?" Quite pleased with himself, he leaned back in his chair and slowly scratched his chest with his two-inch long claws. "Just gotta narrow it down to someone powerful enough to do it."

The Representatives all looked at one another before blurting out simultaneously,

"Grimhilde!"

"Hades!"

"Jafar!"

"Maleficent!"

"Horned King!"

Cinderella slumped forward with an exhausted sigh. "That's only a small handful of possibilities. You know," she looked from side to side, "I'm not comfortable proceeding with this discussion without Jose."

Wendell scampered over to the bird's seat and clumsily pulled himself up into it. "How about I sit in for him?" He banged the neck of his mandolin against the table like a gavel. "Order! Order! See, I can do this here official stuff, and speak with a Spanish accent… SEN-YOR-REE-TA!"

Henry grabbed the instrument and bopped Wendell over the head with it. "Get out of that chair!"

Sudden loud pounding on the heavy door made the group jump. The loose handle violently shook with frantic smacks and screams of, "John! John, let me in!"

"Sarah!" John bolted for the door, hands trembling as he unlocked it and flung it open. His wife collapsed against him, brown tendrils of hair sticking out in disarray from her normally tidy bun, eyes and cheeks red from crying.

"John!" It came out as a hoarse croak. Between hard sobs, she struggled to breathe. "They're gone!" She dug her nails into his arms, gripping him tightly. "Patty and Jimmy—I tried…They were screaming … They're gone!"

He grabbed her shoulders, keeping her upright. "Pa--Patricia and Jimmy—How?" George leapt up to give the increasingly unsteady husband a hand as he led Sarah to Jose's seat. Snow White gave her a handkerchief, one of the very few in the park that hadn't been used by Sneezy.

After wiping her eyes and nose, Sarah explained, "I--I went out to check on them, an—and I called out after them." A harsh sob made her cough. John put an arm around her and rubbed her back. "They stepped out of the arcade and then—and then—this black… _thing_ like an arm or a…a tentacle grabbed them and pulled them back in!" Body shaking, she cried into John's chest. "I screamed and I ran as fast as I could, John! As fast as my legs would move, but I didn't…I couldn't…They were gone! They were gone when I got there!"

John hugged his wife and rocked back and forth with her in his arms. "I thought losing the show was the worst thing that could happen to me," he whispered, "but this is a million times more painful."

Master Gracey couldn't help thinking back on the Headless Horseman's words. "I'm so sorry."

Cinderella, who had disappeared without anyone noticing, was now at Sarah's side with a cup of hot tea. "Drink this, dear. It'll soothe your throat." Then she turned away again, and with well trained and controlled fury, she walked up the staircase.

* * *

Jose panted as he touched down on the round, down sweeping, blue tiled roof of the Temple of Haven in Epcot's World Showcase China Pavilion. The white fence encircling all but the entrance shone in the moonlight. The enormous orange and black koi fish in the surrounding lily pond lazily swam through the water, bothering to speed up only if a dragonfly dared to skim the surface. Gentle, sloping and curled rooftops of the nearby restaurants and shops, coupled with the eye pleasing rock formations and gardens, gave any visitor a sense of ease and tranquility not found in the other pavilions.

The parrot allowed himself to get lost in the peace and quiet, hearing only the occasional splash of shimmering fins. Even by following the monorail track, it had been a long flight, and he knew getting to Animal Kingdom would take an even greater distance. At least Hollywood Studios, his next stop, was close by.

Tracking down the Representatives hadn't been easy. Figment was keener on playing hide and seek rather than being serious, and General Knowledge wouldn't stop barking orders long enough for the bird to get more than a word in. Marlin had been more help, neurotic as he was, even if he did keep babbling about his son missing—again. All that was left was alerting everyone in World Showcase.

A snap and then rustling made Jose freeze. Slowly, he lifted his head away from the wing he had been preening. _Something_ had shifted ever so slightly in one of the trees, just enough to move a patch of leaves.

"Rawk!" Flapping his wings and puffing up his brilliant feathers, Jose attempted to look at least a tiny bit less cute and small. _"¿Quién es? _Who is there? _¿Amigo?" _He watched the tree, waiting for more movement. When nothing happened, he resumed his preening.

By the time he had heard the shrill cry, talons were already digging into his back.

* * *

"Stepmother?" Cinderella stood in front of Lady Tremaine's room, fist raised to knock. Shakily, she lowered her hand. No, she was a Princess. She ruled this land. There would be no timid pleading or begging. She set her expression into a frown. "Stepmother, I need to speak to you. Now."

There was the click of the bolt and the door opened. "Why Cinderella," Lady Tremaine gave her a closed and tight-lipped smile, "is there anything I can do to help you? I was just about to go out." Lucifer made a figure eight around and through her legs. She bent down to scratch behind his ears and he replied with a purr.

Cinderella didn't move aside, standing in the middle of the doorway. "Stepmother, the Headless Horseman has attacked the Cast Members, and two children have been taken."

"Oh," her shaded eyelids rose in surprise. "How unfortunate. We shouldn't be surprised, though, not with everything that's happened." Reaching into an ornate, beautifully carved stand covered with spiraling patterns, she took out her cane. "I promise I know nothing about it, and you well know I never go back on my word. I've been here in my room since meeting your friends earlier. Believe me, I'm well aware of how you and others view me, but I've long since distanced myself from the insane, power hungry villains." This time when she smiled, it was genuine. "I much more prefer my comfortable retirement. Now, if you'll excuse me," she stepped right past her step-daughter and her cat followed, "I'm going to visit my sister."

She turned, enjoying the puzzled look on Cinderella's face. "Unless of course you forbid me, your highness."

Should she have? "No," she shook her head, "go on, but," she gave her a fierce stare, not unlike Tremaine's own, "I will be keeping an eye on you."

"Of course, of course," Tremaine chuckled. "Come along, Lucifer."

Cinderella wondered if she had done the right thing as she watched them leave.

* * *

A/N: I owe everyone an apology and an explanation. I'm very sorry it took as long as it did to update. Everyone who has left reviews and con crit has been extremely kind and patient. Thank you! I couldn't ask for better, more considerate readers. If you haven't forgotten about me, you're probably wondering where I've been. My school work load this past year was horrendous, on top of being very sick for long bouts of time. I was in a car accident, not a serious one, but it did aggravate some pre-existing conditions. On the bright side, I'm going to be an aunt within the month. I'm so looking forward to holding my baby niece for the first time. WerecatBoy and I are already talking about taking her to Disney World when she's old enough. :D

Also, I have to admit, the popularity of this story startled me a bit. (A mention on TV Tropes? Really?! Holy cow!) The more positive reviews I got, the more I thought I didn't deserve them. It baffled me. I kept doubting the project. I didn't think it was as good as it could be, and I kept going back through my notes and finding ways to make it better. For a time, I almost gave up on it, because I didn't think I could deliver a story as good as people were telling me this was. I didn't want to disappoint, even if it is just fan fiction. If I'm doing something that makes people smile, I don't ever want to slip to sub-par standards. I write not just for myself, but to entertain others. I love making people laugh, smile, or even get a chill. If I can give people even just five minutes of a much needed escape from reality so they can laugh or get away from stress, anger, or sadness, then I've done my job. Because we all need that escape at some point, that safe haven. That's what I want to give to readers.

Is that egotistical, whiny, depressing...? If so, I'm sorry. Well, whatever my moping and groaning was, it's gone now. :)

To all of you who read and leave reviews, thank you. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. You guys are awesome!


	10. Covers On Books and Such

"_The Crown lies where the community of tomorrow meets the world of today."_

It took five seconds for the quartet of Cast Members to figure out the clue.

"Epcot, duh." Isaac shrugged. "So, we're heading there next?"

"Yeah,"mumbled Liberty, looking over the storefronts of Main Street, U. S. A. "First, though, we should stock up on provisions. Maybe get something to eat. I can't be the only one who needs a potty break."

Frankie raised her hand and did a knees-together dance. "I could go for that."

Jake patted his stomach. "Food would be great. Maybe coffee, too, I'm feeling punch drunk." He sighed and scratched the top of his head. "I'm sure all the restaurants are locked up, though."

A furry form stepped up between him and Liberty, her silken coat brushing against their legs. "I know somewhere you can eat."

They looked down to see a golden colored cocker spaniel, the sweet-natured Lady of _Lady and the Tramp_. She wagged her stubby tail and opened her short muzzle in a grin. "Sorry," Lady chuckled. "We couldn't help overhearing you."

Tramp walked up beside her. "We got the perfect place for you kids. C'mon!" He jerked his scruffy gray head over his shoulder. "I'll lead you in the back entrance. Ain't no place better on Main Street."

The Cast Members followed the dogs behind Tony's Town Square Restaurant. Even at night, the red and gold stained glass windows caught the light of lampposts and glimmered. The square, white building was joined on the right by the Exposition Hall. In between the two was a store with Lady and Tramp plush toys, disposable Kodak cameras, and the usual souvenir trinkets. They bypassed the white steps, going by the familiar paw prints surrounded by a heart imprinted in the concrete, and slipped into the back of the eatery. Liberty had to sidestep an all too familiar short table with a white and red lined tablecloth.

The kitchen lights were on and singing could be heard within. Metallic clanging of pots and skillets echoed in the silent seating area, mingling with the scents of garlic and herbs. The quartet's stomachs growled.

Tramp winked at them before scratching on the kitchen door. He let out a whine and barked.

"I'm a-comin', I'm a-comin'…" Joe the chef grumbled low in Italian. The door slammed open. The thin man's expression changed from one of mild annoyance to joy. "Well, _ciao, _doggy! I see you got your little cocker-a-Spanish-a-girl with you." He reached down to scratch each dog behind the ears. "Spaghetti _especial_, eh?"

Tramp barked and danced back, leading the cook to the group of friends.

"Uh…" Liberty scratched her left arm, feeling like a begger. "Sorry to bug you. We were hoping to get—"

Tony bellowed from the kitchen, "Hey, Joe, where you at?"

"Tony!" He turned. "You're never gonna believe who we got here tonight!"

"Who?" The head chef leaned out. His scowl morphed into a broad grin. "Oh! Are these our heroes?"

Isaac's eyebrows shot up. "Word travels fast around here."

"Joe, four spaghetti _especiales _and some hot bread for our guests, eh? And get cookin', we haven't got all night!"

"Mama _mia_…" Joe went back behind the swinging wooden doors, grumbling all the way.

Frankie got down on her knees and gave the dogs lengthy scratches behind their ears. "Thanks, guys."

Tramp's tongue lolled out with a grin. "Anytime, kids."

"Be good, and be safe." Lady gave the girl a quick lick on the cheek before following Tramp back outside. "We've got a family counting on you."

At that, the four Cast Members thought of not only Lady and Tramp's puppies, but all of the children connected to Walt Disney World, like Pinocchio and the Darlings. They realized it wasn't just about cartoon characters or robots or even the rides. Families were depending on them for their lives. Messing up wouldn't just mean the end of a theme park, but the end of its inhabitants.

Liberty wrapped her arms around herself. "We have really stepped into something big, haven't we?"

Jake gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Yeah, but I couldn't think of someone better to have at my side."

She felt herself blush again and cleared her throat. "Hey, Frankie, want to make that bathroom run before the food gets here?"

"Sure." Together, the two young women headed off.

Jake gave a weak chuckle and jerked his thumb in their direction. "Girls, huh? Always have to hit the restroom in packs."

Isaac's reply was a slow blink.

He cleared his throat. "We should, uh, get a table. Your choice." He and Isaac slid onto a booth bench. "Never thought I'd be so happy to sit down."

Isaac smoothed over the tablecloth at his corner. When he spoke, his words were soft and tight. "This is getting too real for me, man."

Jake crinkled his brow. "What do you mean?" He grinned and gave Isaac's arm a playful nudge. "Weren't you the one all excited about our mysterious adventure?"

Isaac jerked his head up. "I could have died back there! _Frankie _could have died back there. I thought, y'know, with Disney this'd be all safe and giggles, but there are bigger baddies out here, worse than that alien or the Headless Horseman. What if we come across Maleficent or Jafar? Or God forbid, the Leviathan? We'd die, Jake! We're not cartoon characters. We don't get to come back in the next frame. Once we're done, we're out. Finished. Kaput. I thought this would be like one of my games, but here, I can't just fold up the board and start over when I get stuck." He hung his head. "I'm scared, man. I'm terrified."

Jake let Isaac's speech sink in for a minute. It was like a completely different person had spoken to him. However, it wasn't like Isaac hadn't said something Jake was sure they'd all been thinking since their escapes.

The Skipper reached out and patted his friend's shoulder. "You're a lot more fun when you're spazzed out on soda."

Isaac squirmed away from Jake's palm. "I'm serious!"

"So am I. Look, we're in this together now, right? We got your back."

He squirmed in his seat, as if wishing he could just sink into the wall and disappear. "You guys barely know me. Why stick up for me like that? If you knew the _real _me, you probably wouldn't be so keen on being my friend."

"The real you?" Jake laughed. "Isaac, the real you is a hyper little geek who probably wears a Jedi robe every time he watches _Star Wars_. And you know what? I'm cool with that." He gave him another pat on the shoulder. "And don't worry; we'll make it through."

Isaac arched an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

"Because," Jake grinned, "this is Disney. The heroes never lose."

Isaac returned the smile somewhat. "I guess you're right." He fiddled with the napkin-wrapped utensils. "So… you and Liberty… You guys've been dating for a while, or…What's up with that?"

"Umm…" Jake looked at the wall to his right. When he saw a picture of Lady and Tramp sharing pasta, he frowned and locked his eyes on the table. "We're not, you know, together, really. I'd like to be, but I don't think she's into me. Too much of a dumb goof for her." His chuckle trailed off into a pathetic cough. Turning the conversation, he smiled mischievously and twirled his fork between his fingers. "How about you and Frankie?" Prongs pointed at him, he added, "She seems pretty sweet on you."

"Uh…" Isaac glanced down, surprised at himself for wringing his napkin. "She's not exactly my type." His next words came out in a rush. "Not that there's anything wrong with her! I don't… I'm not…" He swallowed. "What's taking them so long?"

"Long line?"

* * *

"You need to quit teasing Jake."

Liberty shook water off her hands and made a last attempt at drying them on her shirt. "What?"

"Jake. You need to stop toying with him." Frankie ran her fingers through her hair and stuck her tongue out at her reflection. "Why can't I be like a real Disney princess and save the world while having perfect hair? Ariel always had awesome bangs."

"You make it sound like I'm leading him on or something." Liberty tried to perk up her own bangs. It was a lost cause. "We're just friends."

"Yep, and that's breaking his heart." Frankie huffed and rolled her eyes. "I might not be able to read your mind, but he wears his emotions like his hat. Every time I'm around you guys, he's complimenting you, getting in an extra touch here and there, giving you that adoring gaze, trying to make you laugh…"

She looked away, her palm resting on the bathroom door. "He tries to make everyone laugh, it's his job."

Frankie frowned. "You're too smart to play dumb. Quit stringing him along and be honest with him. Give him an answer and cut out this 'friend zone' crap."

Liberty's eyes widened. "Frankie!"

Shocked by her own outburst, she blinked a few times and crossed and uncrossed her arms. Finally, her hands landed on her hips. "Well, someone had to say it! What if we all die or something and you never told him how you felt? You'd leave the poor boy in limbo."

"He could, you know, ask me out or something if it was that important to him."

"Boys are weird like that sometimes. _You _know how he feels. If he were anymore obvious, he'd be wearing a sign. So, it's your turn to do something. That's how these things work." She pushed the door open and headed into the dining room.

Liberty shook her head. _When Frankie's the pushy one, the world's gone topsy-turvy._

_

* * *

_

Jose screamed and flapped his wings as hard as he could. He twisted his body, he kicked his legs, he prayed. Nothing would dislodge the claws from his back. Deeper the black talons dove, piercing past layers of feathers. He managed to crane his neck back to see his attacker.

Shan-Yu's falcon screeched and plunged his beak towards Jose's eye, missing it only when the parrot snapped his head back at the last second.

"_Por favor!_ Stop! Stop! Please!" He was falling, plummeting to the streets of World Showcase, when a plump, red blur knocked the falcon off his balance. As soon as the claws released, Jose half-flapped, half fell to the pavement. Scrambling under a bench, he risked a look. "I don't believe my eyes…"

Iago kicked the raptor in the back. "No respect for your fellow birds, huh?" He grabbed the grey tail feathers in his mouth and gave them a hard yank. The falcon screeched and beat his wings until he tore free; then he took flight, soon disappearing into the dark sky. "And if you try that again, next time I'll really mess you up! Ha ha!" As he cackled, Iago punched at the air like a boxer.

Behind Jose, from out of the bushes snaked slender black tendrils. They slithered in silence, making their way towards the parrot's feet. Just as they reached him, Iago pulled Jose out from under the bench. Rather than risk being seen, the tentacles retracted back into the plants.

"_Squawk! _Iago, you saved me."

Iago swooped down to the other parrot's side. "Yeah, well…" he shrugged. "It's not the first time."

While he tried to preen some of his broken feathers, Jose felt the fact's sting. A lot of Disney fans had shown their immensedispleasure at the addition of Iago and Zazu into The Enchanted Tiki Room. The entire show had been changed, with Iago hogging the spotlight. However, he was right. Had that change not happened, there wouldn't even _be _a Tiki Room in Walt Disney World anymore. A few years before the revamp, the theater was always nearly empty. The old show was up on the chopping block. A team of young Imagineers, lead by Jeff Burke, had seen this, and they fixed it the best way they could. Lots of people only started coming back to see what was new. Guests were clapping, laughing, and singing along again. The seats were filled. It'd been _years _since that had happened.

As if he'd heard Jose's thoughts, Iago held up his wings. "Don't get mushy on me. I was over in Morocco and heard the noise." He brushed off his wings. "Like I'm going to let anything happen to my meal ticket. I'm not going back to having crackers shoved down my beak!"

Jose smiled. He wasn't put off by the bluff. "Sure thing, Iago."

"I mean," Iago continued, walking alongside the host, "I gotta look out for myself."

"_Si_."

Passing the Nine Dragons Restaurant, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. At the hen of the red tiled roof, a small figure of Prince Min sat, ever watched by a row of animal statues. It served as a traditional warning for would-be tyrants that they would not be tolerated. Behind the fifth creature, a hunched form sat up and held out his thick arm. The frayed edges of his fur coverings flapped in the slight breeze. Silent as the stone forms, the falcon landed on the outstretched wrist. Shan-Yu stroked under his companion's beak before jumping to the ground.

He inspected the bird's wounds, his fingers separating the speckled feathers to look at the bruised skin beneath with the tenderness of a mother examining a lump on her toddler's head. Snarling, he turned his cat-like yellow eyes to a slender figure sitting at a table. An upright menu blocked its face, but not its tall, rounded black turban. "Jafar, your lackey failed."

Jafar held up a skinny finger. "How is the orange chicken? I see it comes with white rice. I'm not a big fan of white rice. Can I replace it with steamed veggies?" He lowered the menu, revealing his maniacal smirk. "Maybe, maybe not. Iago's far cleverer than you give him credit for. " He got up, grabbing his cobra staff before getting close to Shan-Yu's side. He peered down at the falcon. "Your bird's fine. Flap it off, feather-boy."

Shan-Yu's crooked sword grazed the tip of Jafar's beard on its way to his throat. It stopped right at his Adam's apple. "Don't. Insult. My. Bird."

Jafar watched the bits of black hair on their way to the ground. In a curling puff of red smoke, he vanished and reappeared behind the Hun. "And don't think your silly knife can hurt me. Phenomenal cosmic power and all that." He grinned.

"Phenomenal, perhaps," he sheathed his blade, "but not omnipotent." He curled back his lips, showing his sharpened teeth. "If your friend fails, I'll kill him myself. My falcon will have him for lunch. As for you…I've wanted a pair of snake skin boots for a long time." He took hold of the roof's edge and launched himself back up. "I'll rally the troops." He was soon lost among the shadows.

Jafar scoffed. "More knives. Pathetic." With a tap of the staff, he was gone, leaving behind only red smoke.

And the serpent forms in the bushes had seen it all, and took note.

* * *

Lady Tremaine exited her carriage, thanked the driver, and continued on down a path that led behind a looming, oddly thin, and slightly curved mountain. Behind it were mechanical rigs and pyrotechnic equipment. She ignored the fireworks cannons and a crane-necked dormant dragon head. Most mortals would have been ecstatic to see behind the scenes of Fantasmic, but it was too much like every day business for her.

She crossed to the middle of the mountain façade to a normally not seen door. With her cane handle, she gave it three loud raps. It opened by itself.

Inside the chamber, blazing torches didn't warm the room. Instead, they cast bizarre, deformed shadows. A rug might have made it a bit more cheery, but the bare stone floors would have lost some character in the process. Besides, they matched the stone walls. Sometimes an armored goblin would bustle past holding a tray of food. Lady Tremaine took the opportunity to trip one. It really was impossible not to with those types. Lucifer had heard the cawing of a bird and greedily searched for it.

From the far right end of the room greeted a familiar voice. "Ah, sister, you finally pay me a visit."

Sweeping up her arms in a grand gesture that flared out her black, purple lined cloak, the evil fairy Maleficent stood up from her throne and stepped down to meet her visitor. They exchanged quick, airy kisses on both cheeks before sitting again. All Tremaine had to do was begin to take a seat where there wasn't one, and a goon brought her a cushioned chair and put it in place before she'd even bent her knees. This was followed by a table set between them, black lace doilies, a china teapot meticulously hand painted with little plump dancing demon babies, two cups, and a matching container of sugar.

Maleficent stirred her cup and took a sip. "Good help is so hard to find these days."

Tremaine rolled her eyes. "Tell me about it."

"I'd go crazy without my Diabolo." The raven perched on his mistress' wrist and bent down to take a drink from her cup.

From between his own mistress' feet, Lucifer hissed at the bird. The raven flew onto his perch by the throne and the cat gave chase. Both women ignored the animals, choosing to let them sort out their problems, each expecting their own pet to win.

"So, what brings you here? Is that princess getting too haughty? That's why I had to leave Disneyland, couldn't bear listening to Phillip and Aurora's singing anymore. Every day, _I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream!_" She curled her lip. "Can't believe a young woman with half a brain would fall for such a stupid pick-up line."

Lady Tremaine chuckled to herself. Although Maleficent wasn't as closely related to her as Madame Leota was—they not only shared voice actress Eleanor Audley, but artist Marc Davis as well—she got along better with the fairy. True, it could be a little strange having a conversation with someone whose voice was almost identical to yours, and Maleficent did have her quirks, (Tremaine had her theory that she'd enjoyed tying up Phillip in chains a little _too _much), but there was an understanding between them. Both women had gone into quiet retirement.

"Oh, no," Lady Tremaine shook her head. "Actually, Cinderella is…_all right_." It was a phrase she'd heard guests say. "She's becoming bolder, more passionate about her role. She's turning into a queen, slowly but surely. I daresay I'm somewhat proud."

"And your daughters?"

She sniffed. "They had their chance. A parent can only do so much."

Maleficent bared her teeth in what could be assumed was a grin. "You surprise me sometimes."

There was a crash somewhere behind them, followed by the sound of animals screeching, then the flapping of wings and the padding of running paws.

"Speaking of surprises…" Lady Tremaine set her cup down in its saucer and placed her hands in her lap. "The Heroes are searching."

The fairy leaned back. Her fingers tightened on the ends of the arm rests. "You mean, for the four objects? The Scroll, the Crown, the Sword, and the Hat."

"The very same."

She frowned and tapped a finger. "So _he's_ loose."

Tremaine's lips tightened and her brows arched. "Hmm? He who?"

Diabolo returned, making sure to land near Maleficent's hand so she'd fawn over him for a bit. Lucifer staggered in from a hallway, wearing a green lampshade on his head.

After giving the raven a few loving strokes, Maleficent said, "What did you think the tools were for?"

Lady Tremaine shifted uncomfortably. She didn't like someone else having details she didn't. "I thought they were for defeating whoever got in the way of saving the World."

"Mainly…" Maleficent took hold of her scepter. She waved her hand over it and the orb began to glow bright green. Inside, there was an image of a man. "_He_ doesn't have a name. Sometimes _he _isn't even a _he_." The shadow shrank, its torso cinched, and the hair on its head grew to waist length. "At times, he's a she…" The woman morphed again, becoming what looked like a winged scorpion with a dragon's head. "… or a what." The black shape twisted into new forms, never staying the same for more than a second. Then it spiraled into itself, becoming a speck that blipped out of existence.

Lady Tremaine frowned. "A shape shifter? Is that it?"

"I've already told you too much." Maleficent rested the scepter against the side of her throne. "Jafar stopped by earlier this week. He was rambling on about stopping progress and breaking the heart of Disney." She scoffed. "At the time, I wasn't paying attention. Jafar's mad, and I'm too old and impatient to care about world domination." She stopped to glare at her "sister." "Don't tell anyone I said that or I will kill you."

She smirked and gave a polite bow of her head. "You have my word."

"And I know how rigidly you keep it." Placated, she leaned back and got comfortable. "He didn't mention the items. The other villains are a lot quieter around me than they used to be."

Lucifer was smacking his head against the chair, trying to fling off the lampshade.

"Maleficent, how do you know about this shape shifter, and the prophecy?"

"Ah," the fairy smiled and chuckled deep in her throat. "Let's just say someone's noticed I've been a good girl. It's come with some new responsibilities… A test. I'm on parole, as it were."

Lady Tremaine's eyes widened. "Oh? That's why the others don't trust you."

She nodded. "No one knows the truth, but rumors are floating around." She waved her hand in a vague gesture. "Let them think what they want. There was a time when the most important things to me were being seen and feared. We all know where that got me." She sighed. "I learned life goes on, even after getting stabbed with a magical sword."

Lady Tremaine waited in silence for several seconds. She stared at Maleficent. Maleficent stared at her. Lucifer walked into a wall.

The aristocrat groaned and tugged the lampshade off her cat. "You're not going to tell me anything else about him, are you?"

There was that bared-teeth grin again. "No. And don't think you can trick me into it. I'm not as impulsive as I used to be."

Lady Tremaine tilted her long chin up with a haughty smile. "Oh, really?"

Maleficent narrowed her eyes. "Really."

"Then I suppose you wouldn't mind a little game…" At the mention, a goon ran up, holding out a box. Another one was already clearing off the table.

The two women began setting up the chess board.

Maleficent beamed as if she'd already won, her hands trembling with excitement as she placed her pieces in the squares. "I'll finally beat you this time, sis. Tonight is my night."

* * *

"Bye, guys! Thank you!" Liberty waved at Tony and Joe. The chefs waved back from the restaurant's porch. Beside them, Lady and Tramp barked their goodbyes.

"Your spaghetti _especial _is _magnifico_." Jake brought his fingertips to his lips, loudly kissed them, and then gestured out towards the cooks.

"You just flipped them off."

He shot the redhead a panicked look.

She laughed and ruffled his hair. "Teasing! Sorry."

He grinned and tried to flatten his lumpy locks. Maybe if the two of them had been alone, he would have risked scooting a meatball towards her with his nose. A shared strand of pasta was too much to hope for. Of course, any move like that was pointless because he'd kept his thoughts to himself.

Frankie, hands in her hoodie pocket, made a beeline for Liberty's side. Then she jabbed an elbow into her ribs. "You're doing it again," she hissed.

"Ow." Liberty rubbed the sore spot. "That really hurt. I'll talk to him later, okay?" She glared at her. "When we're not crowded. It's kind of personal, princess."

"I know." She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. It's just, I've known you guys for a few months now, and you've been so sweet to me. I figure the best way to repay you is to force you to get over your shyness."

Liberty slowly blinked at her, her lips in a slack line, her brows high up on her forehead.

"Yeah, you're fine in the 'no shyness' department. I meant to say, 'Get over yourself.'" She grinned.

She stuck out the tip of her tongue. "Grand quests make you mean, Francine Torres."

Frankie continued to smile and spun on the toes of one foot like a ballerina. "Lighten up, Libby. Doesn't being out here like this, being a part of the magic, doesn't it make you feel _free_?"

"It makes me tired, scared, and question my sanity."

Isaac zipped up his backpack and slung it on. There was the crinkle of tightly wrapped little packages and the crackle of plastic bottles colliding. "Got enough Paninis here to last us a week." When he met the others at the entrance to Main Street, he looked around expectantly. Then he did a complete turnaround, twirling on his heel. There was a few seconds of quiet. "You guys are expecting something like a magical pumpkin carriage, too, right? It's not just me?"

"I know my dogs are still barking," said Jake. "Lib and I walked here, and I'm guessing you guys did, too." Isaac and Frankie nodded. "We've earned a ride, haven't we? We're not really going to walk all the way to Epcot?"

Frankie pointed at the glowing form of Cinderella's Castle. "Maybe we could ask the Representatives… But they've got to be dealing with a lot already. I don't want to bug them."

Liberty looked over at the signs for the ferry boat and the monorails. Her pinched lips twitched up, and then she shook her head at a mental query. "Travel's probably going to be one of those, 'figure it out yourselves,' things. The ferry could get us to the Transportation and Ticket Center, but we'd have to take the monorail from there. It goes too close to the roads, though. We might be seen. Plus, any of you guys know how to drive one?"

Jake thumbed his shirt collar. "Can't be much different from a boat, right?" He was answered with looks of unease from the others. "Yeah, maybe that is a bad idea. Let's improvise." He turned around and gazed down the street, hands on his hips.

"There are an awful lot of ride vehicles," Liberty suggested. "We just need something quiet and fast."

Frankie clapped. "I know what mine's going to be!"

* * *

Giving the rocket's joystick a nudge, Isaac zipped past Jake and to the head of the group. "This is so much better than going in circles!" The Astro Orbiter's glow in the dark paint made stealthy zooming through the trees tricky, but he managed to get away with a few high leaps and drops. So far, no vehicles had gone past, and they'd found heavily wooded areas to travel through.

Liberty, astride Dumbo's back, was higher than the rocket, needing more space for the elephant's ear span. "Far be it for me to mention the elephant in the room—"

"Ha!"

"But how did you manage to separate one of those from its arm?"

"Stitch helped."

"Yeah, I was afraid of that."

The magic Carpet swooped over both of them, its golden tassels flapping. Frankie gripped the front and leaned over. "Hey, look at me!" She sat up on her knees and spread out her arms. "_A whole new world_!" She giggled at her own joke. "I've always wanted to do that."

The only earthbound member of the group was Jake. He was riding Tony, the Jungle Cruise's Bengal tiger who'd saved them when they got into the Magic Kingdom. He leaned down towards Tony's ear. "They think they're so great just because they can fly. C'mon, let's show 'em what this big cat can do. Hyah!" The tiger roared and picked up his speed, running with the power and agility of any beast made of flesh and bone.

Dumbo let out a squeaky trumpet. "Easy, buddy." Liberty rubbed his head. "That tiger's not going to get you." A white sphere came into view and right away she knew it was Spaceship Earth. It wasn't a hard guess, though. Geodesic domes that towered 180 feet tall weren't exactly common in Central Florida. They were coming up on the east side of Epcot, if she judged the identities of the closer buildings correctly. "Heads-up," Liberty called out. "God's golf ball straight ahead."

Liberty, Frankie, and Isaac easily landed inside the park. Jake had to leave Tony a short distance behind and catch a quick ride on Carpet, but he was sure to give the old cat a big hug before doing so. The Cast Members waved good-bye to their transport before the animals, rug, and rocket, headed back for The Magic Kingdom.

They all turned and stared up at Spaceship Earth, watching it gleam in the moonlight. Future World Central, Future World East, Future World West, and World Showcase were all potential hiding spots, not only for the Crown of the Princess, but for new enemies as well.

The Magic Kingdom was just the beginning.

* * *

A/N: Already, this fic is outdated with the update of Hall of Presidents. I'm wondering if I should overhaul Liberty's intro, but that means making a lot of changes elsewhere. Poopie.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and understanding. You people are the reason I keep plugging away at this. Through your comments and reviews, you guys let me know I'm doing something that is entertaining people. What a big, happy rush for me! I really love the con crit style comments I've been getting, too, either through reviews or private message. That lets me know that my story is attracting intelligent, thoughtful readers. To me, that's the biggest compliment I can get. Plus, one can never overlook editorial comments that can help the story. When you tell me, "This is good…This is good…But this sucks here…" I know what I need to focus on, and it is immensely appreciated. If, for some dumb reason it slips my mind to reply to a note or a review, please know I do appreciate it. I'm sometimes a scatterbrain and I don't mean to brush your remark aside intentionally.

Thank you.

P. S. Not to sound egotistical or needy, but is anyone out there interested in doing any sketches or illustrations for this? I can't draw, but I would love to see how others imagine the characters and situations! You don't even need to ask my permission; just draw anything from the story you'd like and let me know so I can see it. I've got a Deviant Art account, so feel free to share on there. Okay, I'm done attention whoring…Carry on.


	11. Some Words from the General

Unlike the Magic Kingdom, Epcot was deserted and dark. Flying in, the Leave a Legacy monoliths looked like tombstones in a pavement graveyard. The enormous dome of Spaceship Earth was behind the Cast Members now, snatching up and reflecting back light from the park's lampposts. Mouse Gear and The Art of Disney stores were within sprinting distance, but their darkened interiors clearly said there would be no more souvenirs bought today. No Characters had come out to greet them, but the crew wasn't surprised; after all, Epcot was more thought of as being educational, rather than for meet-and-greets or movie tie-ins, despite having both. Or maybe no one knew they were on their way.

No ambience music was playing. Instead, the only sound was the World Fellowship Fountain bubbling nearby. Now it was calm, but throughout the park day, it would periodically change colors and gush, sending its waters to soar over ten feet into the air. It "danced" to music and leapt as if trying to play with the fireworks every night. Within its pool, the waters from twenty-three countries around the world flowed. It was a celebration of unity, a symbol of world peace, every time the waters danced.

Frankie flicked a penny into the fountain. It sank to join its copper and silver brethren at the bottom.

"The Scroll was hidden in The Hall of Presidents, which is super fitting for Libby. So, my Crown would be hidden in a similar way, right?"

Liberty unrolled the Scroll of the Scholar again, hoping to find some more clues. "Stands to reason. If it's hidden for you, where would it be?"

Frankie hugged herself tightly and rubbed her arms. "Gosh, you know, to be honest, I'm not sure."

Isaac was consulting a park map. "What's your favorite ride?"

She shrugged. "It _was_ Journey into Imagination, the original, with Dream Finder. Remember when they used to have a guy out who played him and had a Figment puppet? One of my earliest memories of the park is sitting on a bench, talking to him, and giving Figment a kiss."

Liberty looked up from the Scroll and grinned. "D'aww, that's so cute!"

Isaac curled his lip. "You know how many people must have touched that puppet before you put your lips on him? All those people grabbing queue poles, arm rests, not washing their hands…" He shuddered.

Jake snatched the map away from him. "You never played in a sandbox as a kid, did you, Isaac?"

He tried to grab the map, but Jake easily kept it out of his reach. "Not after I found out what the neighborhood stray cats did in it at night. Sorry to burst your inner child's bubble with the gross facts." With a grunt and a well timed jump, he took the guide back. "Wouldn't it make more sense to hide the Crown, a _Princess_ item, in, say, Fantasyland? Putting it here, where science dominates, is just kind of weird. That'd be like sticking The Great Movie Ride in Animal Kingdom."

"That might be the point." Liberty rolled up the Scroll once more and stuck it in Isaac's backpack. He waited patiently, albeit with an annoyed look on his face, as she jostled him around to insure a safe spot for their tool. "You wouldn't come looking here, so why should the forces of evil do the same?"

Jake's smile dipped downward. "Oh, yeah, almost forgot. The Legion of Doom. What are we even supposed to do, go all Power Rangers once we get this stuff together?" He jerked his arms up and down in pseudo-karate moves. "Do we get a giant, morphing robot? 'Cause that would be stupendous! I call the head."

"But you can't be the head," Liberty teased, her hands on her hips. "Red is _always _the leader." She pointed to her hair. "Plus, I'm the Scholar, which makes me the brainy one; and no offense, but you need brains to pilot the head. You get to be the butt."

The sounds of stomping boots put them on alert once more. They silenced and turned, prepared to either welcome or run.

Into the light of the lamp posts stepped an animated man, a short-legged, barrel-chested soldier. His green shirt was adorned with rows of medals and three stars were embroidered on each shoulder. Atop his head he wore a dark beret and black sunglasses hid his eyes. His arms were huge, the muscles as big around as hams. His comically big, bright red mustache with upturned ends bristled in annoyance at the sight of the four Cast Members. In his right hand was a horsewhip. He cracked it against the pavement.

"General Knowledge!" Liberty gasped, instantly recognizing the officer from the now defunct attraction, Cranium Command.

"Well, it seems at least one of you has some working gray matter!" the general snapped. "What are you lily-livered, lollygaggers doing wasting your time, standing around, flapping your gums like a bunch of pigs at dinner? I've known chickens that were smarter than you!"

Jake made the mistake of snickering.

General Knowledge was instantly nose to nose with the Skipper. "Do you find something funny, you joke cracking jalopy jockey? Drop and give me twenty!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" He saluted and hit the ground palms first.

Frankie cleared her throat. He whirled around to face her. "Sir, with all due respect, what're you doing here?"

"What, my mere presence doesn't fill you with utmost glee? You oughta be grinnin' from ear to ear to be seein' me now!"

"No—I mean, your show's been closed for a while—"

"Do I look like the sort of man who gives up easy, who goes away just because some guy in a suit says I do?"

She shut her mouth and shook her head.

"I think not! Wherever knowledge is needed, I will be there." He put his hands behind his back and began pacing back and forth. "Wherever a cranium needs command, I will be there. I think you bunch of sloths get the message!"

Jake collapsed into a panting, sweating heap.

"Up on your feet, cadet!"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Well, okay." Liberty reached down to help Jake. "Then why are you here, General?"

"To tell you youngsters to put those brains of yours to use! Use what you know and _think_. You've now got enough clues. That tiara will be yours in no time if you use your brains. Although to be honest, I'm losing hope on that front."

Liberty scowled, but ignored the insult. She wasn't going to push away some possible help. "What do we do after we get it, though? After we get all of the items? What does this all have to do with saving The Carousel of Progress?"

General Knowledge lowered his glasses and looked her in the eyes. "Keep your wits about you, Scholar. You'll figure it out. Never underestimate yourself." He pushed the lenses back up. "That goes for all of you. Now get movin' on the double, cadets! Do you want to be replaced with a bunch of squids?"

At once, they chorused, "Sir, no, sir!"

"Then prove that you're smarter than squids! What are you waiting for, hugs from your mommas? Go, go, go!"

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!"

Perhaps the pep talk hadn't been the most positive one, but it did set them in motion. They were heading to Future World East now, the section that housed Wonders of Life, Test Track, Universe of Energy, and Mission: SPACE. From there, it was a short walk to the back end of World Showcase.

"I don't think it'd be in the East side, and I can't see it in Spaceship Earth," said Liberty. "But maybe if we head into World Showcase, we'd have better luck. They have that Princess dinner thing in Norway."

"Akershus," Frankie corrected.

"Gesundheit," the others said.

She rolled her eyes. "I've worked meet and greets there. Still doesn't fit, though. He said we had clues. It's like my English teacher always says, 'Symbolism, look for the symbolism.' " She looked back over her shoulder at Future World.

"Yeah," said Isaac. "The clues are that you're the Princess, you play a princess, and that's the Disney Princess restaurant in Epcot. Princess—A pretty girl in a sparkly dress. That's the symbolism! What else is there?"

Liberty didn't exactly sound open to suggestions when she added, "Well, if you get a better idea, let us know. But I think we've got a straight shot here. I was right about the first time, wasn't I? It'll be a cinch."

Frankie frowned, feeling as if she'd been brushed aside. "Always think you know everything, don't you?" she mumbled.

Liberty turned her head. "What's that?"

She coughed, practically choking on her guilt. "I said, Norway's just past here."

Ahead was the first of the World Showcase pavilions, Mexico. Nearly the entirety of the pavilion was packed into a beautiful, clay colored Aztec pyramid. Within it were a restaurant, shops, galleries, and a boat ride, The Gran Fiesta Tour starring the Three Caballeros. Now, it was harder to make out the other details of the area, like the snake-like, stone Quetzalcoatl heads that decorated the sides of the building. Other features just seemed wrong in the dark, like the two, short, moving figures on the pyramid's porch…

"Huh." Liberty stopped and squinted. Then she smiled and waved. "It's Jose Carioca and Panchito. Hey guys!"

The green parrot and red rooster had been busy looking through a shared pair of cartoonishly big binoculars at the sky. They turned, lenses still to their eyes, and jumped in alarm at the humans standing right in front of them.

Jose lowered the binoculars, giggling nervously to himself. "Oh, sorry, you just looked so much bigger for a moment there." He picked up his little black umbrella off of a nearby table and sauntered over to the group.

Panchito was there first, though, eager to shake everyone's hand. "_Hola_! Panchito Romero Miguel Junipero Francisco Quintero Gonzalez welcoming you to Mexico." He flourished his huge sombrero and let out a loud "Ah-ha!"

Chuckling, Jose gave Panchito a friendly squeeze around his shoulders. "And add my welcome to my hyperactive friend's. So," he leaned back on his umbrella. "What brings you people back to our little corner of the World Showcase, eh? It's not usual to see humans about now."

Panchito added, "At least, not live-action ones."

"We're looking for something special," said Liberty. "A magic crown."

Nudging his friend in the ribs, Jose exclaimed, "Oh, what a coincidence! We are looking for something, too."

Panchito nodded. "Maybe we can help each other out."

"Okay," she decided to play along. "What are you missing?"

"Donald Duck."

Liberty laughed. "You mean like in the ride? Don't worry, guys, he always shows up in time for the concert. He's probably chasing girls or trying to wrangle a llama."

The parrot's face was solemn, an eerie touch on his usually grinning beak. "No."

Panchito shook his head. "He disappeared a long time ago. Him, Mickey, Goofy, Minnie, Daisy, and Pluto. No one's seen them in months."

"The others think they've been over at Disneyland or doing whatever it is the big shots like them do, but it's not like all of them to be out, especially for so long."

Holding his hands up to form a 'T,' Isaac had to interrupt. "Wait, wait, wait, wait! Back up a sec. Mickey Mouse, the icon of this glorious empire, the head cheese himself, has gone missing? No one thought this was an important tidbit of information to tell us? Is it just me, or are we getting yanked around here? What else did the Reps leave out? They didn't mention the homicidal alien, that's for sure!"

Frankie shrugged. "Honestly, I think they know about as much as we do. I remember, back when we were taken to the castle, John saying something about if Mickey didn't like his joke, he could come back himself and say so. I'm guessing they've been bitter about this for a while, and decided to just take care of things themselves."

"_Si_." Panchito raised a finger high in the air. "But we haven't given up! We shall never give up on finding our _amigo_, and once more becoming the Three _Caballeros_!" He fired off his pistols into the sky. "Ay-yi-yi-yi-yi!"

Turned to Jose, Isaac leaned down to whisper, "I think your friend needs Ritalin."

"Well," Liberty ushered her friends forward, "I hate to leave you guys, what with this missing Mickey mess going on, but we really have to move it. We'll be sure to keep an eye out for Mickey and his pals, though."

Frankie stepped up to Liberty's side, a determined scowl on her face. "Okay, I know you're trying to do the right thing and all, but you can't just push aside—" She stopped when she saw the older girl's face pale and her eyes widen. After moving to follow Liberty's gaze, she did the same.

Isaac jumped behind the stone-still Jake. Peeking out from behind the other guy's torso, he pointed a shaking hand. "Huh—Hu-Huh-"

With the shushing sound of sliding metal, the half dozen or so men standing in front of them pulled out their blades. More men jumped down from inside tree boughs or off the tops of buildings. It took no more than a few seconds before the group was completely surrounded by Hun soldiers.

Isaac groaned. "So close to China, we should have seen this coming. We're gonna die, guys! Thanks for putting up with me. It was nice."

Frankie put the crook of her arm through his. "Don't worry," she whispered. "If Shan-Yu's here, then—"

A raspy chuckle cut through the crowd, and it parted to make room for the Hun general. He grinned, showing off his fanglike canines. "Nice to see you know my name." He stood in front of Frankie and tilted up her chin, their faces so close she could smell his foul breath. "I can't wait to hear you scream it."

Isaac was trembling, but his voice was strong. "BACK OFF!" Arms out, no real coordination involved, he sprang forward and shoved Shan-Yu. The surprised general staggered back only a couple of inches before retaliating with a punch to the teen's stomach. The boy toppled, but his friends were there to catch him.

"You heard the man." Jake swung out a fist and clocked a nearby soldier in the face. "Back off!" He snatched the soldier's sword while he was cupping his bloody nose. Kicking one man back, and slashing through the shirt of another charging him, he pushed ahead for an opening.

Behind them, a loud cry rose over the melee. "_Aye carumba! _AHHHH-HAA!" Riding on their flying carpet, the magical _serape_, Panchito and Jose dove into the fray, pistols firing and umbrella swinging.

Frankie grabbed Isaac's hand and pushed him towards the birds. "Hey! He's been hurt!"

He protested but they pulled him up and onto the _serape_. "I just got hit. No biggie, really." He tried to sit up and then curled back up in pain, holding his backpack to his stomach. "Yeah. That stings. Hurts to breathe." He looked down. "Hey, you guys see that little Stave Church there, in Norway? Drop me off there, would you?"

Frankie knew what they needed to turn around this fight. She ducked a soldier, kicked someone in the knees, and then was out and running. Being so petite had its advantages.

Not so lucky, Liberty and Jake were encircled by soldiers. They stood back to back, exhausted from lashing out. They had a few more swipes and kicks left in them, but soon a soldier had hold of her wrists and forced her arms behind her back. She thrashed and flailed her legs to no effect.

"Lib!" Jake raised his sword high, but before he could bring it down, Shan-Yu pushed his own crooked blade into his side.

It took a few seconds for the pain to register. Shocked dulled his senses. His eyes seemed to move so, so slowly down to see the blood soaked sword pulled out of his body. All he could hear was his heartbeat. Liberty was screaming and kicking with all her strength, but it was as if she was muted and in slow-motion. As he fell, time sped up again so he could smack into the pavement. Then the world spun into oblivion.

* * *

Ignoring any discomfort, Isaac leapt down from the _serape_ and onto the porch of the Norwegian Stave Church. It was a little, wooden building, shaped almost like a triangle or an A. The walkway leading to either of its two, heavy doors could be uncomfortably tight for larger visitors. In fact, because the _stavkirke _was so small and unassuming, with its closed doors and location beside the main shops and attraction of the Norway pavilion, most people assumed it was an empty building, a prop for looks. Within it, though, was an oft overlooked gallery, detailing the history of Vikings.

He pushed open the door and stepped inside. It was a little roomier than one might imagine. After all, it had to be to house its wax figures and weapon collection. He ran from glass case to glass case, tapping and shouting, trying to wake up the Viking warriors and kings within. Stopping in front of Erik the Red, he watched as the king blinked his glass eyes and stretched his bearded jaw. The others around him, King Olaf and Rognvald the Raider, woke up as well.

"Help!" Isaac pointed towards the door and waved his arms. "We need help!" He didn't know if they could speak English or not. Spotting a replica of a wooden shield, he hefted it up and shook it, then gestured again to the door. Then he grabbed a sword and repeated the signal.

Around him, the glass cases were shattered by booted feet and clenched fists.

* * *

Frankie ran under the Gate of the Golden Sun as she entered the China pavilion. Then she cut a hard left, running over the bridge over the lake koi pond. At the end of the path was her destination, the Imperial Palace. The red building, with its sweeping golden roof, was a beautiful mix of Chinese architecture and symbolism. She remembered reading that the color red signified the Chinese Dragon, and the golden yellow was in reverence for the Phoenix.

Out of breath, heart pounding, she knocked on the doors of the palace. "Please be in there…"

It opened, revealing none other than the savior of China herself, Fa Mulan.

Holding a cup of warm tea in her hands, and wearing a comfortable silk shirt and pants set, she looked as if she'd just been relaxing after a long day of chores and training. "Uh, hello." Mulan tilted her head, confused, but clearly not feeling threatened. "Are you new here?"

"Not exactly." Frankie chanced a quick look over her shoulder, hoping no one had followed. "We've got trouble. The Huns are attacking my friends."

Mulan dropped the cup. "What?"

"Yeah, back in Mexico. We've got to hurry!"

In moments, Mulan was in her armor, riding out on a saddled Khan. Yao, Chien-Po, Ling, and Shang were close behind on their own horses. In the furor, Frankie had been forgotten. "Whoa!" She waved her arms. "Can I get a lift?" Shang doubled back, grabbed her, pulled her up onto his horse, and then was galloping back out, all in one swift move.

Tentatively, she wrapped her arms around his waist. She told herself it was so she wouldn't be thrown off the horse. She didn't have an excuse for resting her cheek against his back, though. "Oh, Shang." She grinned, ecstatic to actually meet her childhood crush. "I heart you!"

He looked over his shoulder. "What was that?"

She jerked up and coughed. "I said, they're right up here!"

The sight was a greater confusing mess than before. Vikings had now entered the battle. She caught sight of Isaac at the sidelines, and when Shang slowed, she slid off the horse, stumbled a bit, and ran to her friend. "What's going on? Where are Libby and Jake?"

He grinned and thumbed his chest. "I brought the Vikings. Uh…" He blinked and tried to peer through the fighters. "No clue." He grimaced. "They didn't follow you?"

But then a blob of red poked through the mass. Head down, Liberty staggered through, hauling Jake with her. When she looked up, tears were raining down her cheeks. Covered in cuts and bruises, she ignored her own pain, and mouthed, "Help!"

Frankie gasped. "No!" She and Isaac dashed over to the couple and helped Liberty carry him to a safe place. They laid him down on a bench, ignoring the shouts and clanging of swords behind them. Then Liberty lifted up his shirt to look at the wound.

It was slender, but deep. Liberty kept her jaw gritted shut. She wasn't about to let him hear her freak out. If he thought she'd lost hope, then he'd… Liberty unzipped the backpack and took out a bottle of water, then poured it on the gash, washing away the dried blood. She took off her jacket and gently pressed it to his skin, hoping to at least slow the blood flow. "Just...Just stay with me, okay?"

Slowly, he reached up and put his hand on hers. He opened his eyes part way and smiled. "Where else would I go?"

She smiled back down at him, but couldn't stop her tears. "I can't lose you, you know."

His voice was weaker now. "Why's that?"

"You make me laugh."

"Shan-Yu," Shang's voice bellowed. Frankie and Isaac turned to see what was going on. The fighting had ceased, and the Chinese and Viking warriors held the Huns at bay. "You've attacked China and civilians in our land…"

Liberty groaned. She gave Jake's limp hand a reassuring squeeze, and then went over to the young captain. "Shang, I know you've got politics to settle, but my friend is dying. He needs help right now!" She gestured to the barely breathing body on the bench. "Please, I'm begging you," her voice softened. "Isn't there something we can do?"

For a moment, he almost looked offended at being interrupted, but then Mulan placed her hand on his arm. He touched his fingers to hers. His eyes darted from her to Liberty. "Sometimes," he swallowed, "casualities—"

"Don't give me that!" She pointed at him with one hand and had the other on her hip. "This place is full of magic. Isn't there a Fairy Godmother nearby or something?"

Erik the Red stepped up next to Liberty. Tapping the bottom of his spear against the ground, the Viking leader called for attention. When he spoke, it was in a thick Norwegian accent. "Perhaps, it is her fiery spirit. Or," he chuckled, "it is her fiery hair that makes me sympathize…" He tugged on his bright red beard. "I do know of a way to ward off the Valkyries of Valhalla. There is one who has the magic to heal, and that is the Troll King. You will have to face the Maelstrom to reach him, and even then, he may refuse to help. The trolls hate humans, and they hate strangers in their woods even more."

She glanced at Jake. He looked so still and pale... She wiped away tears and turned back to the king. "I'll do anything to save him."

Erik pointed with his spear to the entrance of Maelstrom. "Then hurry now. Go before it's too late!"


	12. Magic Journeys

Isaac helped Liberty haul the unconscious and eerily still Jake into one of the Viking long boats, before jumping back out and pressing a few buttons on the Maelstrom's ride control panel. The ship jolted forward and he hopped back in, taking a front row seat just ahead of the couple. He looked up at the giant mural painted on the wall of the load area. On the far left end were hints of trolls in a dense forest, following by Vikings. Things got more modern further to the right, where blond men manning oil rigs and a ten foot tall nurse dominated the scene. It was hard not to stare.

Isaac pointed at her. "Ha, if only she could help, huh?"

Liberty managed to pull her gaze away from Jake long enough to talk to Frankie, who was standing by the load area. "You sure you'll be okay alone?"

"_Hakuna matata_. Don't worry about me. I'll be holding the Crown when you come out." Her smile faltered for a moment as she took one more look at the Skipper. "Just make sure to bring him back safe and sound, okay? I don't want to lose any of you guys."

"We will." Liberty pulled up him and rested his head on her lap. She brushed his bangs up off his forehead. "I promise."

Frankie waved at them until the boat disappeared into a dark tunnel and began its ascent into the world of Vikings and trolls.

"_You are not the first to pass this way… Nor shall you be the last. Those who seek the spirit of Norway face peril and adventure. But more often, find beauty and charm…"_

Liberty held up a hand to shield her eyes. Green light, starting first as a tiny pin point and then expanding outward towards them, filled the tunnel. As they got closer to the top of the lift, she could see it emanated from a portrait of Odin. The light beamed out of the god's open eye. As they got closer, the eye shut, and they were briefly in darkness once more before barreling through a set of doors and into a forest. Totems and faces were carved into the tree trunks. Past a set of such trees was a small home. Inside the house, a fire blazed. Outside, a family chatted excitedly in Norwegian. Some members carried goods out of a boat that was docked nearby. It was a pleasant scene, one demonstrating a happy community, not at all like something one would expect in a theme park ride about Vikings.

But the tranquility didn't last long. They sailed deeper into the forest, away from human influence. Faces could still be found in the foliage, but the large, yellow eyes blinked and rolled to follow the Cast Members. Hoarse voices murmured around them and humanoid forms darted along the shore and between the overgrown plants. The current grew stronger and pulled the boat up to the huge severed trunk of an old tree. With a jolt that made Liberty tighten her hold around Jake, the vessel stopped.

She put her hand on Isaac's. "This is it, Wizard. Put that D&D knowledge of yours to good use."

He cleared his throat and faced the stump. "No pressure." He gulped. "Uh, hi?" Standing on one leg, the knee of the other braced on a bench, he peered ahead. "Troll King?" Crickets chirped. Any second now, there was supposed to be—

"INVADERS!" The three headed Troll King leapt up right in front of the young man, sending him sprawling back. He waved his gnarled staff in the youth's face. "What," the middle face curled back its lips, showing off a small collection of jagged teeth, "are you filthy humans doing in our forest?" The face on the right snorted loudly and then spat out a gob of phlegm. "Disgusting. Make them disappear!" The far left chimed in, shaggy head bobbing. "Yeah! Disappear! Disappear!"

"Wait!" Liberty raised an arm, hoping to stop them before the troll could send the boat shooting backwards down the falls, just like in the ride. "We need your help. Our friend…" She looked down at Jake. "He's…he's been hurt." A sob cracked her voice. "Please!"

The middle head, apparently the dominate one, scrunched his eyes so as to make even more wrinkles crinkle over his aged face. "Why should we care?"

"Because," Isaac pushed himself up, "without us, your world is doomed."

"I doubt that," the Troll King laughed. "What power can you possibly possess?"

"Ha!" Isaac pointed at him. The right head snapped at the proffered finger. He quickly yanked his hand back. "I thought you would say that. I'll have you know, I'm a powerful wizard…" He started digging into his backpack. "One who holds sway over the very cosmos itself!" Pushing past sandwiches, he finally found what he was looking for. "Behold!" He held the flashlight high above his head. "I grasp the power of the sun, your sworn enemy." He clicked the light on.

The Troll King shirked back, holding his arms up over his faces.

Then the battery died.

Isaac pouted. "Oh, Jiminy Cricket."

Using his staff, the Troll King knocked the light into the water. "One of those flameless human torches," he sneered. "What kinds of fools do you think we are?"

Hoping to save the situation, Liberty spoke up. "Not fools, your Majesty. We're just…desperate. Very desperate." She gripped Jake's hand. It was so limp and cold. "I would do anything to save his life, sir… sirs. Anything."

The king's noses began to quiver, and he leaned down into the boat. Nostrils twitching, he poked at the floor with his staff. When he nudged the backpack, a few of the sandwiches spilled out. He picked one up and sniffed it. With careful, yet quick, movements, he unfolded the foil. He sniffed the sandwich some more. "What is this?"

Isaac's eyes darted from the sandwich to the king. "Well…" He cleared his throat and stood with his arms crossed, feigning offense. "We call it _Panini._ It's a rare delicacy, served only to royalty." He started putting the other sandwiches back. "We're taking them to the Princesses at Akershus. Of course," he pushed _his_ glasses up, "we could offer you some… For a price."

The Troll King rotated the sandwich in his hands. "It seems quite scrumptious…"

"It is. Finest cuisine in the world. Better than lutefisk."

All three of the mouths smiled. "It is done, wizard. Three of your… _pah-nee-nees _to heal your friend."

"I suppose it's a fair bargain," said Isaac, handing over the food. "I hate to disappoint those princesses, though."

While the left and right heads ate, the middle began to intone in Norwegian. Above them, lights twinkled and formed a spiral of stars. The spiral unfurled and swooped down to curl around Jake's torso. Liberty clapped her hands over her mouth to muffle her gasp. The magic swirled faster, a golden blur around his body. Then it shot up, back into the night "sky."

At once, Jake's eyes opened and he took in a deep gulp of air. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around. "How'd we get in that weird troll ride?"

All Liberty could do was laugh in relief and wrap her arms around him.

The Troll King banged his staff on a rock, calling for attention. "Humans, our deal is fulfilled." The right head cackled. "Yes, now back, back, over the falls ye go!" He waved his hand and the boat lurched backwards, taking off fast enough to make the Cast Members grip the seats. The last they heard from the Troll King was the left head shouting, "PAH-NEE-NEES! PAH-NEE-NEES!"

* * *

Frankie had tried to get into Akershus, but the doors were locked. Hands cupped over her eyes, she'd peered into the darkened restaurant, but didn't spot anything crown-like. She'd known it wouldn't be in there anyway, though; she just felt she owed it to Liberty to look. She told herself that it was _not _so she could gloat about being right later. A Disney Princess did not act in such a way. Then she'd kicked herself in the shin for such bratty thoughts, especially when Jake was hurt, or worse…

"Everything's going to be okay," she spoke out loud. "We're in Disney World. Good _always _wins."

She stopped.

Such statements were cues for ironic entrances. A "Is that so, _Princess?_" should be heard right about now, if she was any judge.

She waited.

"Rowl!"

She tensed.

A scrawny black cat ran out in front of her, stopped to look at her with its one eye, and then headed off for the bushes. Even she flinched at the sight of it. It was too mangy to be cute, skinny to the point of near starvation, and one eyes was swollen shut. She didn't recognize it from any ride or film she could think of. Perhaps it was a bit ominous, but stray cats were no stranger to the parks at night. Walt Disney World had a thriving population of feral cats that were tolerated for their pest hunting skills. By the time guests showed up, the animals had gone back into hiding.

"Okay," she held a hand over her thudding heart. "No biggie, moving along."

"Hi!"

She yelped.

"Oh, sorry." Mulan winced. "I didn't mean to scare you," she smiled. "I just wanted to check in on you."

Frankie smiled back, her heart rate returning to normal. "It's okay. Did you guys get Shan-Yu taken care of?"

"Yeah, Shang's got the Huns in a cell. He's trying to interrogate Shan-Yu, but he's not talking." She scowled. "I think there's something even more sinister going on than just a random villain attack."

Frankie wondered how the Representatives of the Magic Kingdom would respond to that. Did that even matter? After all, Mulan was a member of the Disney family, a citizen of the parks. Whatever they were up against, it threatened her as well. And any extra help the Cast Members could get was appreciated. So Frankie told her everything she knew. Afterwards, Mulan volunteered to go ahead of her to scout for trouble and pass on word to the other Characters. The rest of World Showcase held a formidable amount of heroes, including Belle and Beast in France, and Aladdin and Jasmine in Morocco. That was some comfort, even with Gaston and Jafar possibly nearby.

The young women exchanged "good lucks" and set off, Frankie on foot and Mulan on Khan. Despite her suspicions, Frankie knew she had to be thorough, although it was going to be a long walk back to Future World. Of course, that's _if _her guess was correct. And what if it wasn't? They'd be there all night.

_Quit doubting yourself_, she thought. _Keep going. That's what a Princess does._

Vigilant, she went onward, pausing to peek in at a possible Crown location or to ask and/or answer questions from the Characters she passed. She passed through Germany, Italy, and The American Adventure. Halfway through Japan, she had to take a breather, allowing herself a drink at a water fountain.

The Japan pavilion was all about harmony and balance. She couldn't help being put a little more at ease there. Also, she felt safe. No major villains would be found here. Thanks to Mulan's warning, a Samurai warrior, (formerly a statue out by the main store front), was patrolling the pavilion. Now all she had left to travel through were Morocco, France, The United Kingdom, and Canada, then down the pathway that led into Future World West.

"Crap," she huffed. "That's a long walk. A long walk for something I'm not even sure about."

"Don't let your judgment be so crowded with anger and delusions. Right thought may soon lead you to inner peace." The voice giggled. "Or, at least, you won't feel so crabby."

The voice, feminine and bubbly, was coming from a tall, white crane. She was perched atop the red _torii_ gate at Japan's waterfront. Elegant, rather than lanky, and hand-drawn animated like so many of Disney's memorable characters, the crane was unknown to Frankie. She spread her wide, red tipped wings and floated down to land by the Cast Member.

"_Konnichiwa_," she said, dipping her head in a bow. "How goes your quest?"

Frankie lifted her bangs to show a dark splotch on her forehead. "I've got a goose egg from that alien encounter…" She gestured back towards Norway. "One of my friends might be dead, I'm angry at my other friend, and that makes _me _feel like a bad person, but I know I'm not a bad person; I'm just frustrated. I keep doubting myself, and I feel like I have to put on this happy front all the time, and it's driving me crazy!" She panted. "Sorry," she grimaced.

The crane held a wing over her beak and chuckled. "No need to be. You _should _be honest. Truth is the daughter of the gods, a blessing. Release it, accept it, and you will be free."

Studying her for a moment, Frankie finally had to ask, "Who are you? I'm sorry, not trying to be rude, but I don't recognize you."

"See? Honesty's wonderful! No more ignorance." She sprang up into the air and flew over to a blue- roofed, five story pagoda. Landing again, she gestured to a building just beyond the shops and restaurants. During the day, and especially at night, it would have been invisible, save for the fact it was faintly glowing. "I am a memory, made whole by potential. You see that building there? That was to be my home. Inside, it's incomplete, even though it's been here for years."

"What was it going to be?"

"A show called Meet the World, a replica of one that'd played in Tokyo Disneyland. After my show was ended, I thought I would never teach visitors again. I was so hopeful when I found out I was being brought here. Sadly, it was not to be."

Frankie frowned. "That's not fair."

"It depends on how you look at it, I suppose. Maybe my show isn't running now, but as long as that building is there, as long as there are plans in the archives of Imagineering, there is always potential for my return. Compared to many others, I am very lucky. I at least did get to entertain guests for a long time in Japan, so there are others who remember me and still love me. I will never be truly gone."

Frankie thought about that for a moment. "Why is it glowing?"

The crane shrugged. "That is a mystery." She smiled. "Perhaps you and your friends will solve it."

"I'll put that on the to-do list." She gave a little bow. "I have to get going, but I think I'm feeling a lot better now. I know where I need to go."

"A great start."

"I think so." Her steps quick, she set off again, now knowing for certain where her Crown was.

* * *

"I get brought back to life only to wake up in Maelstrom. You sure this isn't some kind of twisted afterlife?"

Isaac turned around in his seat to reprimand Jake. "The Troll King saved you. Thanks to _me_," he sniffed.

Liberty patted Jake's hand. "Isaac's got a point. Besides, wouldn't your Hell be more like working the smoked turkey leg stall for all eternity?"

Jake shuddered. "So much grease. Although I would be able to find out what those things really are. I'm not convinced it's turkey. I think it's some kind of emu. Doesn't change the fact we're in Maelstrom—the weirdest ride in Disney World."

"I kind of like it," said Isaac.

The boat shot backwards up a hill, into a corridor with vines and trees painted on its walls. Happy music, Edvard Grieg's "Morning Mood," started playing. With a jostle, it stopped, and the trio turned to see part of the back end was sticking out of an opening, showing a clear view of the outside. Below, a little waterfall burbled. There were plenty of jagged boulders and rocks to emphasize the point that jumping would be a very bad idea.

Jake took a long look. "A psyche out to make us think we're going to fall to our doom, all while happy-good-morning-twinkly-bluebird-music plays. Maelstrom, ladies and gentlemen."

The boat shifted to the right. Liberty turned around in her seat, preparing for another drop. "If it's any consolation, the song's composer was Norwegian." She pressed her lips tightly together. "Granted, he also did 'In the Hall of the Mountain King,' which would have made a lot more sense…"

Next to them, a huge troll head popped up from under a sapling. His big, yellow, bloodshot eyes rolled around in his head. "To the North Sea with you!"

They slid down with a mild splash into a chamber full of storm clouds. A Tesla coil created the illusion of lightning from atop an oil rig. They rounded the rig and came to a stop dockside at an authentic Norwegian seaport. A bell clanged and seagulls cawed. Then the narrator, who'd been missing for quite some time at this point, returned.

"_The spirit of Norway is adventure!"_

"No it's not!" Jake tried to stagger up. It took Isaac and Liberty to heft him to his feet and then get him onto the dock, lest he tip sideways and fall into the water. His feet were crossing one another as he tried to walk, and his speech was slightly slurred. "The spirit of Norway makes no sense! And where were you while we were dodging angry polar bears and oil rigs, huh?"

Liberty nodded towards the exit, a set of open double doors that led into a theater. "Let's get him a seat, at least 'till he's steady again."

"You guys—you guys don't have to. I'm good." He swerved to the right, nearly sending him and Isaac into the doorframe.

Liberty rolled her eyes, but was smiling the whole time. "Jake, you were stabbed with a sword twenty minutes ago. I think it's all right for you to take a break." She eased him onto the cushioned bench.

"I suppose you're right, Libby. You're always right."

She sat down next to him and held his hand. "Hardly. I'm just bossy, huge difference." She looked up at Isaac. "Uh, you mind stepping out and giving Frankie a call, see how she's doing? I'm going to sit with him for a bit to make sure he's okay."

Isaac grinned, too pleased with himself to object. "A wizard's work is never done." He slipped out before the doors at the other end closed.

In the theater, the lights dimmed and a hidden projector turned on. Liberty and Jake watched the film for a while, sitting in silence as the boy on the screen explored a museum display about Vikings. Then the scene cut to towering tumultuous waves crashing into a Viking ship, sending horned-helmet wearing men running to and fro, screaming orders at each other and flinging around ropes.

"Do you remember when Vikings ruled the sea?" Jake narrated in a reedy, Mid-Western twang. "Pepperidge Farm remembahs!"

Liberty giggled so hard she snorted. "Nice to see you're back. How're you feeling?"

"My brain's still a little fubar, but I'll be okay. It kinda itches where I got, y'know, skewered, but everything feels intact." He grinned. "Did you miss me?"

"Yeah," she chuckled. "A lot, actually." She squeezed his hand a little tighter and laid her cheek on his shoulder. "I was really scared, Jake. I thought I was going to lose you." Her throat tightened and the tears started to flow. "And I don't think I could ever forgive myself if you were gone and I never got to say how much you mean to me. And I've been such a…such a _cold witch_, but I was scared and—"

She was cut off when his lips pressed tightly to hers. She leaned into the kiss, and all of her worries melted away. When they broke apart, he looked every bit as shocked and ecstatic as she did.

Her voice was a gasped whisper. "Taft's tub!"

"Oh, man," he panted. "Sorry, I didn't even think—I just—"

She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in for another kiss.

Unnoticed by them, the ride side doors opened and the Troll King walked in. He banged his staff against the floor. "We demand more pa-nee-nees, humans!" All three heads tilted in confusion, and then the lips curled back in disgust. "Disappear! Disappear!" Back to his forest, the King ran, swearing never again to meddle in the affairs of humans.

* * *

There was something noticeably different about Future World West from the rest of the park. It was livelier, more playful, and certainly a lot nosier. At The Seas with Nemo and Friends, the seagulls laid claim to anything that looked the least bit edible. Inside, Bruce the great white shark held his nightly "Fish Are Friends" meeting. Over at The Land pavilion next door, a faint rendition of "Veggie Veggie Fruit Fruit" could be heard when the sound of jet engines didn't drown it out. The nocturnal creatures found within Living with the Land were stirring, going about their business like any normal animals. Dinosaur roars and screeches barely got through the walls of The Universe of Energy.

Frankie passed by all of this with barely a glance and raced towards the double pyramid-topped Imagination Institute pavilion. In front of the 3-D theater at the left and the Journey into Imagination ride at the right, the Imagination waterfall was flowing. Unlike most waterfalls, though, the stream flowed _backwards_, the water gushing up and over the ridge.

Suddenly, with a wet _plop, _a purple ball appeared at the top of the fountain. Bobbing up and down, it bounced on the water, as if of its own will so it wouldn't be swept back. It started to grow larger and five points grew out of it, giving it a star shape. A sixth soon poked out of the back.

From somewhere within it, a squeaky voice piped up, "Oh, boy, I'm havin' trouble! Help me out here. You know the words!"

Frankie grinned. "I sure do! Two tiny wings…"

Two orange wings, bat like, sprouted from the shape's shoulders.

"Eyes big and yellow…"

These followed suit.

"Horns of a steer… but a lovable fellow. From head to tail, he's royal purple pigment..."

The shape become more and more defined, developing distinct legs, arms, feet, and hands.

"And there, _voila, _you've got a Figment!"

Now complete, the little purple dragon looked himself over. He let out a boisterous, yet still squeaky, giggle. "Would you look at that? I'm just right!" He flew down and kissed her cheek. "Thanks, friend. I needed someone with a great imagination to make me whole again. That Dr. Nigel Channing tried to stow me away for interrupting his lab work, but you can never stifle your imagination!" He giggled again and did somersaults in the air. "Now we can play." He grabbed her hands and pumped his wings as fast as he could, attempting to drag her.

"No, Figment," she laughed. "I can't play."

"Aww!" He hung out his lip in a pout. "Whhhhy?"

"Because I have to find something very special, and I think you might know where it is." She tapped the end of his nose.

"Oh!" He clapped. "It'll be like a treasure hunt." A safari outfit appeared on him and he brandished a huge magnifying glass from out of nowhere. "What do we have to find?"

"A crown, one made for a princess."

"Hmm…." He scratched between his horns. "I don't know where a crown is. We can always make one, though. We'll need… paper, glue, and lots of crayons, felt and gems and—"

She shook her head. "No, I think it's being kept safe, by someone you know. Figment, where's Dreamfinder?"

His playful expression vanished, replaced by a solemn frown. "Dreamfinder?" At the thought of his old friend, the dragon slowly descended to the ground. "Dreamfinder's…gone!" A little sob escaped him.

"Please don't cry, Figment." She squatted down, a bit taller than eye level to him. It was a stance she used when trying to comfort children who'd gotten lost in the park. "We'll find him. Come on, I think I know where to look." She clasped his hand and stood up, and the dragon fluttered up with her. "By the way, I'm Francine, but everyone calls me Frankie."

"I'm Figment, but everyone calls me Figment." He laughed. "Except for Dr. Channing. He calls me 'that nuisance'. Or sometimes 'purple pest.' Ooh, my favorite is 'mauve meddler.' He can have quite the imagination when he wants to!"

* * *

A/N: Be sure to check out the fantastic drawings Karalora did on Deviant Art of the four heroes. She's not only a wonderful writer, but a great artist as well, and just a terrific person all around. And go read Crowns of the Kingdom if you haven't already!

Special thanks to Phillip Kipple, who suggested using the Meet the World crane. True story, the show building does exist and has been sitting in Epcot for years now, just waiting to be used for something. That's not the only one, either. There's also a building behind Germany that was meant to house a boat ride. Various countries have been announced over the years, just to be scrapped for some reason or another. But, like Walt said, (and I paraphrase for the situation), these parks will never be complete. Potential exists throughout all of them, and we should never close our minds to what can be achieved.

And if it seems like I'm taking some shots at Maelstrom, don't worry. It's all done with a lot of love. Seriously, it's my favorite ride in Epcot… I can't even type that without snickering. No, I really do love it, for all of its sheer weirdness. It needs more love, so next time you go to Epcot, make sure to visit Maelstrom. Hum along to the inappropriate music and say hi to the trolls. Just watch out for giant nurses and oil rigs.


	13. Of Pants and Pirates

Inside the Castle's conference room, the agitation in the air was punctuated by the quiet sobs of Sarah and the clacks of Cinderella's shoes on the stone floor as she paced. Hands folded behind her back, the Magic Kingdom's leading Princess crossed from the door to the back wall by the tapestry. She'd pause by a window, glance out, sigh, and then start moving again.

"I don't like this. It shouldn't take Jose this long to alert a few people, let them pass on the word around their parks, and then get back here."

For a few minutes, Snow White looked afraid to speak up, but then cleared her throat. "Maybe he's having trouble finding some of the other Representatives?"

"Or he's gotten into trouble." Henry snorted. "We need to get out there pronto. Find him and find the kids. The citizens of Disney have a right to know what's going on!"

Master Gracey gave a grave nod. "Agreed. I thought at most our intrepid team of heroes would be challenged by assorted boogie men, test their bonds of friendship, and overcome obstacles that would force them to discover their inner strengths, and… what not." He rolled his hand in a vague gesture. "However, children, _innocents, _have now become involved through no fault of their own. Evil has decided to break the rules of the game and now it's our move."

John shot up from his seat and hurled the chair aside. "I'm sick of all the talking. I'm going after my kids, and I don't care what _any of you _have to say about it!"

Sarah sprang up behind him and grabbed his arm. "John, that _thing _is still out there! We don't even know what it was or how to stop it, or even where it went. Don't you think I'm just as scared, just as angry as you are? Just as sick and worried? Every second that goes by, I don't know what my children are going through! I don't know what that sick thing is doing to them! But I also have no idea where to start looking. If we're off track by the littlest bit, we risk losing them forever." She gripped his wrist and looked pleadingly into his eyes. "And I risk losing you, too. We need a plan. We need a _clue."_

"Sarah…" His expression softened, but the look of anguish on his face was still present. "You were always the sensible one." He hugged her tight. "I just want my little boy and girl back." He sniffed, his tears dropping into her hair. "I need to know if they're okay."

Cinderella stood at a window now, looking out over the park. Down below, on the carousel, Ariel giggled hysterically while Eric chased her, making her dodge horses and carts on her unsteady legs. All it took was her blue skirt getting caught on a stirrup, and he'd grab her around the waist, kiss her, and she'd take off again. Cinderella envied them. They were totally clueless as to what was going on…

_Or are they? _She blinked. _They go back and forth between here and Hollywood Studios, don't they? Maybe they've seen something and didn't even realize it… Sarah had said she'd seen tentacles!_

"John, Sarah, I beg you to bear with me just a little longer. Snow White…" Cinderella turned around, still gripping a curtain. "Go to the carousel and talk to Eric and Ariel. Ask if they've noticed anything in the least bit odd about Ursula. Tell them to be on the alert and spread the word. Get the dwarfs and the prince out there to pass on the message."

"Right!" Snow White saluted before dashing off.

Henry gave Cinderella an incredulous quirk of his eyebrow.

"Never underestimate a girl who can take charge in a house full of grown men with nothing more than a pot and a soup spoon," Cinderella waved her index finger at him. "Henry, I want you to go to Frontierland and Adventureland." She glanced at the little quiet bear with the overbite next to him. Wendell had been wringing his paws the whole time. "Take Wendell with you so you can cover both at once."

Wendell perked up, happy to be included.

"What about Jose?"

Thankfully Cinderella still had the window open and the curtain pulled back, because two gasping red parrots careened through at the same time and crashed on the table.

"Well, that answers that question."

Iago pushed his plump body up, beak wide open as he took in huge gulps of air. "All right, Joe, end of the line. I'm not towing your feathered fanny anymore!" He hacked and groaned.

Jose bobbed his head in a grateful bow to Iago. "Thank you, _mi amigo_. I would not have made it without you." He winced as he tried to take a few steps forward. "Oh, my aching back!"

The ghost scooted closer to the table. "What happened, old friend?"

Jose whistled. "It was that _loco _falcon, Shan-Yu's bird. He attacked me at Epcot, and Iago saved my life. Squawk!" He ruffled his feathers. "I could barely fly, but he got me back to the Castle safe and sound."

Cinderella gently picked up the bird. "Sorry if I'm embarrassing you, but we have to get you bandaged up. My husband always has to mend fencing wounds; I'm sure he'll have you cleaned up in no time."

"You are so good to me, _senorita!"_

After she left, the others glared at Iago.

The parrot cringed. "What?"

Henry crossed his arms over his chest. "There's a villain attack and you just _happen _to be nearby? Ain't that a darn good co-inky-dink!"

"I was trying out the roasted lamb in Morocco. You ever ate at _Marakesh_? Good food, a tad on the pricey side. Look, you think I'd sell out my meal ticket? Not a chance! I don't work for Jafar anymore. I gave that up when I moved to the Tiki Room." He flapped his wings. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a cold plate with my name on it. Maybe if I ask nicely, someone'll stick it in the microwave." With that, he was up and out of the room.

The Representatives shot each other awkward glances.

Henry got up and adjusted his top hat. "Are we being paranoid?"

Wendell hugged his broken mandolin before following Grizzly Hall's emcee. "Just 'cause you're paranoid doesn't mean they ain't out ta get cha!"

* * *

Prince Charming looked up from his desk when Cinderella entered his study. "Hello, Cindy. How's the meeting—Oh." He looked from her frown down to the animal held in her arms. "What happened?"

"He was attacked." Mindful of Jose's back and wings, she handed him to Charming. "I was hoping you could tend to the wounds." She glanced at the piles of letters on his desk. They were from other Disney parks around the world. He and Prince Phillip had a game of checkers by mail going back and forth. There were also lists of complaints and notes from children asking for autographs. Charming liked handling the behind-the-scenes paperwork; he felt he wasn't much of a diplomat. Plus it left more time for his hobbies. "Things have just gone from awful to horrific, and I'm at my wit's end!"

Charming was already poking through a drawer and pulling out bottles of antiseptic and cloth bandages. "I'm going to need the mice to help me."

"Yes, of course." She whistled and Gus and Jaq were there before she'd lowered her fingers. "Villains are popping up, violating the peace we'd called years ago, and now people have gone missing. I'm starting to think Mickey's abandoned us, or worse. It seems like he left for California ages ago, and no word since." She shivered.

Charming only made a little grunting noise as, with the mice's help, he stitched up one of the worst gashes. "These…_heroes_ that have been called up, I'm sure they'll figure everything out. That's how it always works, right?" He smiled and helped Jose up to his feet. "And you'll be the wise, kind Princess you always are, inspiring everyone around you. That's what you do best."

Jose perched on the prince's shoulder. "_Si, senorita_, don't lose hope. That was the very lesson you taught us." He whistled.

She tried a half hearted smile, then cleared her throat. "Honey, since you've got Jose squared away, would you mind sending a letter to Aurora and Phillip? We need to tell them about this. If things keep escalating, we'll need their help."

He plunked himself down at his desk and took up a quill. "It would be my pleasure, my dear."

"Also, I need you to act as my replacement for a while." She went behind a dressing screen, (They did have company after all! Even if he was a parrot.), and the sounds of sliding drawers and the shuffling of clothes could be heard. "Just in case someone comes by with questions."

He spun around, knocking over his inkwell and ruining his parchment. "Drat-Wait, what? You want me… out there?" His skin became as pale as his beloved paper.

"Well, yes." She adjusted her brown vest as she stepped out , and then tugged on her long white sleeves. The brown breeches were a little unorthodox, but she needed practicality for this special occasion. "I have to leave for a… _diplomatic_ matter." She barely contained a groan at the end of the sentence. "We need help, someone outside our usual circle of friends, so this is something I have to go out for."

He sprang up and followed her. "But—But you know—Me—People—Me and people. I don't do well with them!"

She smoothed down his hair and then dropped her arms around his neck. "I know that, but I also know you've got the strength to do this. Just like you had the strength to find me at the ball." She cupped her hand on his cheek. He clasped it and kissed her palm.

It was a little known fact that Charming had been positively _terrified _at the royal ball, hiding it behind a false pretense of boredom. Getting together with some close friends and family was easy, but out with groups of strangers or mere acquaintances? It was why a bride-finding-ball was necessary to begin with.

"I still kick myself for not going out and finding you myself," he mumbled. "Some prince I am. Your Godmother should have turned me into a spineless slug."

"Hey." She put a finger on his lips. "It's in the past. We're together now." She gave him a quick kiss. "Time's running out, so I have to go. Just wait in the conference room in case something happens. You'll be fine. Jose will be here to help you out."

Before she could leave, he had to stop her one more time. Her shoe had fallen off. He scooped it up and slipped it onto her foot. He'd gladly do it a million more times if he had to.

* * *

John, Sarah, and Master Gracey were still waiting in the castle when Cinderella returned. Charming, with Jose on his shoulder, took his wife's usual chair. Grinning and wide-eyed, he gave the others a thumb's up.

Master Gracey returned the grin, but then pulled the princess aside. "You're leaving the neurotic in charge?"

She scowled at him. "He's _not_ neurotic!" She glanced back at her husband. "Maybe. I don't know." She shrugged. "We never had him diagnosed." She put her hands on her hips. "But that doesn't matter because I trust him."

Her fierce expression only made the ghost chuckle. "I see your pair of man-pants has given you a matching set of man—"

John shoved them apart. "Can we go now? Please? Your witty retorts are a little less important than my kids." He groaned, muttered something unintelligible that was most likely a curse, and rubbed his forehead.

Cinderella nodded. "Right. John, Sara, meet us in Tomorrowland near the Arcade. Look for clues, but please, _please_ be careful! I need to go get someone first, and then we'll be right there."

After they'd split up, Gracey kept step with her. "Oh, goody. Who are we fetching?"

"You'll see, my mortally handicapped bargaining chip."

"Why am I filled with an aura of foreboding?"

When they arrived at Pirates of the Caribbean, the Ghost Host gave her the most narrow-eyed glare he could manage. His face became partially skull with the intensity of his pouting. "No."

"Yes."

Together they made their way through the fort side version of the queue, passing pyramids of cannon balls, empty gun racks, and big barrels boasting GUNPOWDER on the side. Cinderella couldn't seem to help humming along to George Bruns' score. Although at one point she did turn to Gracey, leaned in close to his ear, and then hummed _really _loudly just to further annoy him.

He rubbed his temples. "You want to be a villain, don't you? All of the Princess niceness has driven you insane and this is your way of fulfilling your sick, twisted urges to wreck havoc upon humanity." He smirked. "This… _rebelliousness_… I daresay it would be a turn on if you weren't so inclined to seek aid from that inebriate cad. _I _have plenty of drunken morons you could borrow, and no compensation required, of course." His pale pink lips curled back into a snarl. "He _will _ask for payment."

They approached the load area. Along the way, their eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and their noses had gotten used to the water's sharp chlorine-tinted scent. Tapping her closed mouth with one finger, Cinderella looked from the bobbing but otherwise still beige boats to the stone walls. Finding a CAST MEMBERS ONLY marked door, she gestured for him to follow.

"I know," she sighed. "But we need his talents. Besides, you never know what new friends can bring to the table." At "new friends," she gave him that perfect teeth smile she wore on video covers, T-shirts, and just about every other piece of merchandise one could find in the parks.

"Do you automatically do that at certain key words, or are you trying to scare me?"

Still smiling, she blinked and scrunched her nose. "It's a Princess thing."

Their backstage walk led them right where they needed to be: The final scene of the ride. Already they could hear slurred singing and the occasional squawk of a parrot before stepping into the treasure room. Glints of gold shimmered on the walls, reflected by special effects lights and the hundreds of coins, jewels, goblets, jewelry, and plates. The open wooden chests spilling over and the cabinets crammed full of fortunes would make any pirate drool. Sitting in the middle of it all on an elaborate, high-backed rocking chair, one foot dangling over an armrest and the other easing him back and forth, was Captain Jack Sparrow.

Using his finger as a baton, he guided a blue and yellow parrot through the ride's theme song. Finger still waving about erratically, he took a chug from a jewel-encrusted goblet. "Drink up me hearties, yo-ho!" Noticing the Princess, he raised his cup. "Come in! There's treasure enough for all. Just don't touch the rum."

Cinderella chuckled. "That won't be a problem, Mr. Sparrow."

"That's Captain." He dropped his arm and squinted in the faint light. "Ah, Princess, to what do I owe the pleasure?" He gave a swaying bow, almost spilling his drink. "Come to keep me company? I don't think Princey would like that." He winked. "But what he doesn't know can't hurt him."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, well, as delightful as that sounds, I'm going to have to forego that enchanting offer. However," her tone brightened, "we've come to apologize, and to further make amends, I have a proposition for you."

"Apologize?" This came from both Sparrow and the Ghost Host.

Jack slid to the floor and then stood up into an unsteady stance. "He's here, too?" He sauntered up to the duo. "Couldn't see you there. You sort of blend in. It's spooky." He turned to Cinderella. "I don't abide by dead people. Or undead. Whatever he is. Can't keep it straight most of the time." He shrugged. "I just think when things are dead, they need to stay dead. Preferably buried under six feet of dirt and locked in a box so they can't chase me. No offense, mate. "

She nudged Gracey, her elbow going through him. "He wants to apologize."

Jack grinned and waited.

Arms crossed and eyes shut, the ghost heaved a gusty sigh. In one short exhale, he blurted, "I'msorryIshutthewindowonyou."

"And sent me into a moat, mate," Jack waggled a finger. "Can't forget that. Had to hang out all me clothes to dry, even the boots. And don't get me started on the algae. It's very slimy in there." He shuddered and stuck out his tongue. "Blech."

"He's very sorry about that too, I assure you."

The ghost mumbled, "Yeah, sorry."

"Well," Jack sniffed. "I don't really believe you, but I'm going to be the better man anyway and accept your apology. Now," he clapped his hands together, "what's this proposition? Are you reconsiderin' my proposal?"

Cinderella bobbed her head. "As a matter of fact, we are. We need your help, and in exchange, I will dub you Representative of Adventureland so long as Jose needs time to heal."

"Oh, the little birdy got hurt? That's a shame. I'm all choked up about it." He snatched a jar of rum. "This is all I need, I'll be movin' in."

"Hold on a minute, Captain," she held up a hand. "First thing's first. If you can track down a giant, tentacled monster that kidnapped some children, then, and only then, will you get the title. Let's face it, you have a knack for finding these sorts of things."

He quavered. "Giant…tentacle…monster? But I don't like things with tentacles. They have a tendency to eat me. And they smell bad."

"Well, then," she turned around. "I guess we'll just have to get someone else, then…"

"Wait!" He dashed in front of her. "I'll be in charge of Adventureland?"

"Mmm-hmm."

He went over the options and alternatives in his head, inaudible whispers escaping here and there. "All right, I'll do it. But remember: I get to be the Republican—"

"Rep-re-sen-ta-tive!" Gracey clenched his fists at his sides and stamped a foot. "Representative! Representative! Representative! You ignorant clod!"

"You're awfully stressed for a dead guy, mate. Looks like when she got pants, you got a pair of little lacy underthings and they got all bunched up. If you're going to be throwin' a tantrum, I'll just stay here with my rum." He took a swig.

The ghost inhaled and exhaled slowly. "For the good of the Kingdom and my friend, I apologize and beg you to join us."

"Aw, you do like me." Out of a vast collection, he picked out a sword and sheathed it at his hip.

"No, I hate you with the fiery passions of a million suns. I'd wish you dead, but that would put you on _my _doorstep, and quite frankly, that's a Hell that even Dante himself couldn't devise."

"Hell?" Jack adjusted his hat, only half-listening. "Been there, mate. I wouldn't recommend it; there are crabs everywhere. Nasty little buggers, look like shelled ticks." He went for another drink. Then he held the jug over his eye and pouted. "Why's the rum gone?" He swayed. "Oh right..." He threw the empty bottle behind him and it smashed on the floor. "Now let's find our beastie!"

* * *

BONUS CONTENT TIME!

Here's a scene that was deleted from chapter eleven, taking place while the four Cast Members are on their way to World Showcase. It's not very long, right around half a page, but it slowed the action down and the dialogue wasn't essential to the plot or characters, so that's why it was removed. It's basically an onslaught of trivia and bad (emphasize the "bad") jokes provided by Jake. Plus, there's an off-color pun that I'd place squarely in the PG-13 realm, and I try to avoid that type of humor with this story. After writing it, I also thought I was the only person who'd find Jake's tangent funny. Overall, a weird moment, but I thought it'd be nice to share anyway. So here it is: Jake's Epcot ramble.

As they were passing Mission: SPACE, Jake perked up. "Anyone mind if I pop in for a bit and hassle Gary Sinise?"

"We're on a schedule, Jake," Liberty sighed. "Gary Sinise won't be in there. He just plays a character for the ride video." She smiled at him, trying not to laugh. "And why do you want to hassle Gary Sinise, anyway?"

"Why would I _not _want to? He's Gary Sinise!"

"Look, if we get the Crown, I promise that on our way out, we'll go into the Canada pavilion and you can go make fun of Martin Short. He hosts that educational Circle Vision film there."

Jake's eyes grew wide. "Oh, I could never do that! Martin Short is a legend!"

Isaac groaned. "I knew your sense of humor was whacked-out, Jakey-boy, but to love Martin Short?"

"I mean, he's a theme park legend. He was in an Disney-MGM Studios show—back before it was Disney's Hollywood Studios—called the Monster Sound Show. Here at Epcot, he was in The Making of Me, the educational film in the Wonders of Life Pavilion about, you know, how our parents made us. Ironically not sponsored by the Siemens company. You'd think they'd be all over that instead of Spaceship Earth."

"Ha!"

"And, not a Disney ride but still here in Florida, he was in Akbar's Tours, a flight simulator at Busch Gardens. Five theme park attractions. Ergo, legend. I rest my case."

"Fine," Liberty laughed. "We'll lay off Martin Short. If we see some mimes in France, you can harass them. Nobody likes mimes anyway."


	14. Dreamfinder's Folly

Frankie tip-toed through the entry hall of the Imagination Institute… and Figment tip-toed in the air by her shoulder. Moving down the queue, they passed a room with some comfy red chairs; _Flubber's _floating robot Weebo in a glass display case; and large portraits of Professor Phillip Brainard, Professor Wayne Szalinski, and Dr. Nigel Channing. Halfway to the load area stood a silver column decorated with signs pointing to the various sensory labs. There weren't any lights on, but it wasn't a problem—Figment had the tip of his tail lit up like a glow in the dark arrow head.

Quivering with excitement, the miniature dragon hovered close to Frankie and whispered, "Do you really think we'll find Dreamfinder?"

She patted his horned head. "Absatively-posalutely. It might take some searching, but we'll do it. If General Knowledge is still here, there's no reason Dreamfinder wouldn't be."

To their left, a door creaked open and they flung themselves flat against the wall. Frankie grabbed the end of Figment's tail to cover the light. Nigel Channing stepped out, newspaper under one arm and a cup of tea in the other, all the while humming the theme to _Monty Python's The Meaning of Life_.

Figment narrowed his eyes at the doctor. "That's the wrong song!"

Frankie couldn't slap her hand over his mouth fast enough.

One foot still in the air, Nigel spun one-hundred-and-eighty degrees on his heel. "Figment! You periwinkle…periwinkle…"

Figment grinned. "Pandemic?"

"Yes, very good… You periwinkle pandemic!" He shook his cup at him, splattering tea all over the floor. "What on Earth are you doing, cavorting around at this hour? We have open house bright and early tomorrow morning. Don't forget, you represent the Institute, a place of learning and dignity and—and…" He jiggled his tea at Frankie. "Figment, I thought I told you no more bringing the custodians into the Taste Labs. We've been getting complaints about people's tongues turning green."

Figment pulled Frankie forward, both giggling despite Nigel's fuming. "She's not a janitor! This is my pal Frankie, and she's going to help me find Dreamfinder." He held up her hand and Nigel shook it.

Frankie played along. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Channing."

"Pleasure to make your aquain—Wait, what am I saying?" Nigel shook his head. "Figment," he let out a long sigh. "I know you miss your friend, but he's gone. He isn't coming back. You can't keep dwelling on the past," he pleaded. "At the Institute, we focus on tomorrow, because tomorrow brings—"

Figment roared. It was a puny, screechy roar, not enough to even make the doctor's thin hair flutter, but it contained all of the rage the little dragon had kept pent up for years. "No, you're wrong." He thumbed his chest, "And I'm going to prove it." He took hold of Frankie's wrist and flew forward, pumping his wings with phenomenal vigor. "C'mon, Frankie, let's go get Dreamfinder!"

Nigel dropped his cup and paper. Clutching at the sides of his head in terror, he cried, "But the open house is tomorrow. Figment, please don't wreck my dioramas!"

With Nigel's wails echoing behind them, Figment whisked Frankie through the Sound and Sight Labs. She finally dug her heels in at the Smell Lab; it was the first time the soles of her sneakers had been able to touch the floor since Figment's take off. The scent of skunk wafted through the chamber, and she regretted stopping at that particular point.

"Figment," she grabbed his tail with both hands, anchoring him to a stop. "I know you're upset, but you need to listen for a minute."

"But Dreamfinder—"

"You don't know where he is."

He sank. "Oh." After a second he perked up. "Well, whereishe then?"

"I might know." She bit her lip. "Um, but there's always the chance I could be wrong."

"We won't know until we try, Frankie. Dreamfinder always said trying is the first step to success."

_Or failure_. But she didn't say that out loud. "Figment, we need to go upstairs."

In just a few minutes, they were standing at the base of a white spiral staircase. It was an odd sight in the ride's gift shop, especially since it was always blocked by a short velvet rope. For those familiar with the original incarnation of Journey Into Imagination, the flight of stairs wasn't bizarre for its placement. After all, it was only with the later versions that the gift shop had been built around it. What was bizarre was the fact guests were no longer allowed to climb it to the second floor and explore the playground that was once known as the Image Works.

Hiking her long legs up and over the rope, Frankie bypassed the boundary and bounded up the stairs with the same exuberance she'd had when she was five and eager to play on the Stepping Tones. All the way up the curving path, Figment stayed at her side, every bit as determined as she was. Once at the top, they were almost sent reeling back by the overpowering stench of mildew and plant rot. The ventilation upstairs had been shut down for almost a decade, making the air muggy and hard to inhale. Despite the suffocating humidity, Figment shivered and clung close to Frankie.

"I got ya, buddy," she whispered, putting an arm around him.

"I—I think there's _monsters_ in here!"

"Let's not let our imaginations run away with us."

Something with multiple feet skittered past them and disappeared into the shadows.

Jaws open, eyes wide, they momentarily froze in panic, clutching one another.

"How about," said Figment, "we run away with our imaginations?"

"Good idea."

They sprinted for the Image Works zone. Dark forms detached from the shadows and chased after them, snapping with huge, eyeless, bulbous heads, and grabbing with tentacles and human arms that sprouted from their long necks. Arrays of tentacles gave them locomotion across the threadbare carpet.

When they got into the Image Works, they heard a loud click, and with some buzzing and flickering the round-topped Sensor Maze lit up, beckoning them in.

"_Head for the rainbow tunnel!" _someone shouted. _"They hate the light! I'll meet you at the end."_

"That's Dreamfinder!" Figment grabbed Frankie's hand and they headed into the multi-hued path. It was glowing golden now, with faint strips of red, orange, green, blue, indigo, and violet scattered throughout. Luckily, the Sensor Maze, also known as the Rainbow Corridor, wasn't a maze so much as just a winding walkway. The snarls of the shadow beasts decayed as the duo reached the end.

Waiting for them was a plump, rosy cheeked old man with his arms spread open in welcome. His dark blue suit contrasted with his thick red beard and mustache. Most of his red hair was hidden by a black top hat. Aviator goggles sat on the hat's brim. Not a speck of lint could be spotted on his white gloves.

"DREAMFINDER!" Figment pounced on him, almost knocking the old man over. "You can't imagine how much I've missed you!" He nestled into Dreamfinder's arms and nuzzled his head against his chest.

"Oh, old friend," Dreamfinder chuckled softly and rubbed a finger under Figment's chin. "I think I can." Smiling, he looked up at Frankie. His eyes twinkled when he said, "I knew you'd find me."

Figment was beaming. "I couldn't have done it without my new friend, Frankie. She knew just where to look."

Blushing, she shrugged. "It was a lucky guess."

Dreamfinder put an arm around her shoulders and together they strolled further into the Image Works. "Luck? No, you used your wits and your imagination. You put together all the clues. You _knew _I'd be here." As they passed the different exhibits, the stations were bathed in a golden glow, like the Meet the World show building had been. They walked over the pastel colored Stepping Tones and "One Little Spark" leapt up from the floor.

"Well," arms out for balance she hopped on one foot from a red square to an orange octagon, finishing the chorus, "it just seemed obvious. This was always my favorite ride, and I thought you'd be here since General Knowledge and the crane are. And what better tool for a princess than her imagination? That's what always gets them through the worst of times."

Soon the Image Works looked like its old self. The Bubble Music station burbled happily. Colorful images danced across the electronic coloring books and Magic Palettes screens. The giant kaleidoscope monitor displayed beautiful patterns that rearranged themselves into new forms. Over at the Dreamfinder's School of Drama, the green screen was prepped and the camera was rolling. By itself, the table-sized pin screen was creating three-dimensional forms. It was all just as Frankie had remembered it. Well, except for the horrific beasts she could still hear snarling back at the stairs.

"What are those monsters?" She shivered.

Dreamfinder stopped and turned to face her. The cheeriness was gone and his expression was one of grief. "Oh, my dear girl, I'm afraid I've made a horrible mess of things." He shook his head. "You remember that I had all sorts of creations I shared with visitors. My most beloved was Figment, of course."

The little dragon blushed. "Awww!"

"My second most treasured was my Dreamcatcher machine." He gestured to a corner. In that instant, the fabulous flying contraption—something like a steam punk combination of a dirigible and a bicycle with a big hose and an iron barrel attached—shimmered into being. "With it we'd catch all sorts of notions and fancies in the Idea Bag and bring them to life. Anything could inspire new ideas. Art, literature, drama, and science—it all starts with that one little spark. Unfortunately," he sat down on the Dreamcatcher with a soft groan, "not all of these inventions were friendly."

Frankie thought back on her memories of the ride. "The literature part was always scary. It looked like words would fall on you and there were all sorts of monsters. I mean, they were all shadows, illusions, but to a kid they were as real as Figment. You had more references to H. P. Lovecraft and Poe than anything else." Her eyes grew wide and she snapped her fingers. "Those monsters were those… things projected on the big book, the giant Venus flytraps! I remember now. They had big vines and tentacles and human arms. I used to close my eyes when I'd see it. It scared the…" She looked at the kindly old man and the childish dragon. "It scared me a lot."

He chuckled and flashed a half-smile. "I thought maybe after all of the pretty paintings and carousel animals, people would want a thrill." Once more, he frowned, looking weary. "When I found my way back, they must have followed me. Since then, I've exhausted myself trying to destroy them. But it turns out that I can't destroy. I can only create, which, I suppose, is as it should be."

"Are they only in here?"

Again, he shook his head. "Most of them are. Those are the babies, the saplings that grew off the mother."

The color drained from her cheeks. "You mean there's a huge one out there?"

He nodded. "Two, actually, a mated pair. And I'm afraid of the havoc they're going to cause, if they haven't terrorized everyone already. I think someone is using them, controlling them to make them even worse. There's no telling what foul deeds have been accomplished."

"My friends are out there!"

"I know." He got up and walked over to the metal container on the Dreamcatcher. "I've been waiting a long time for this," he grinned. "You are the Princess whose crown I was sworn to protect. Just to be sure, though, you have to use your imagination to bring it forth. It will know its owner."

Figment flew over to the machine and sat by the barrel for a good view. The drum was like a womb for concepts. They gestated within until taking their final, realized shape. Once fully formed, they popped out the top. A clock with one big red arrow was situated on the tub's outward side. It calculated how close an idea was to fruition. Figment had sprung out of that very kettle. "Oh boy!" he clapped. "Make it a beautiful, shiny crown, Frankie."

She swallowed. "Um, okay, well… Let's see. A Princess is never selfish, so it wouldn't have gaudy jewels. It'd be dainty, like a tiara." She smiled and her voice grew stronger. "Oh, and she's always good with animals and at ease in the woods. She makes herself at home wherever; doors aren't locked to her, not if her intentions are good. Her love helps heal and inspire others."

As she spoke, the dial on the drum lit up and the arrow flipped to the right. Thin smoke tinted with the scent of sweet spices spilled out. There was a whistle, like from a ready tea kettle. The bin rattled and shook as a beam of light shot out. Then the Crown emerged, slowly twirling for them all to see. It was a golden band, decorated with interwoven green leaves. At the center, spiraling vines flanked a miniature Cinderella castle. Figment reached out towards it, but then drew his hand back with a gasp. It floated over to Frankie, stayed at eye level for a moment, and then placed itself upon her head.

When it touched down, warmth and joy flowed through her being. _"¡Oh Dios mío!" _she breathed. "Ohmigosh, ohmigosh, ohmigosh!" Tears came to her eyes and she put her hands over her mouth. That happiness was still there, but it was joined by a new emotion, a raw drive that formed one word in her mind: Responsibility. It overwhelmed her and she fell to her knees. "What if I can't…?"

Dreamfinder went to her side and pulled her up. "You _can_, my dear. And you _will_. Believe in yourself and anything is possible. The power comes from within you; the Crown is merely a conduit." He looked out toward the edge of the Image Works, where the monsters were waiting for them. "However, in this world it doesn't have its full strength, so use it wisely." He tilted her chin up. "Never doubt yourself. When all seems lost, stand and proclaim who you are, and you will always find the strength to keep moving forward."

She nodded and wiped away her tears. Grinning with determination, she held her head high. "I am the Princess, and right now, my friends need me."

The Dreamcatcher came to life. Dreamfinder pulled down his goggles and snapped them in place. "Maybe along the way, we can get rid of some of these brutes, eh?" He laughed and took the helm.

Bouncing with boundless energy, Figment was sitting in the back. He was already wearing his own set of goggles, a leather helmet, and a scarf. After Frankie sat in the middle, the dragon gave a thumbs-up and the machine took off.

On their way out of the Imagination Institute, they sucked up some of the plantlets into the Idea Bag. (Also, they'd given Nigel a good startle, but that was just for fun.) The Bag wasn't infinite, though, and the hose certainly wasn't big enough to draw in the massive beast Frankie spotted moving across World Showcase.


	15. Ghosts

Cinderella, Jack Sparrow, and Master Gracey entered Tomorrowland and were quickly assaulted by two fuzzy blurs babbling gibberish. Gracey, still floating, held out his hands to help the pirate and the princess to their feet.

"What the bloody hell are those things?" Jack pointed at the blue and pink creatures. He withdrew his sword, only to have it sniffed at and licked. "Are you making untoward advances at my cutlass? It's a sword, not a harlot, and should be afforded such dignity." After wiping it on his shirt, he re-sheathed it, albeit with a curled lip and narrowed eyes.

Cinderella laughed and hugged Stitch and Skippy. "They're aliens, two of Tomorrowland's citizens. This is Stitch…" She gestured to the big-eared blue creature, who waved in turn. "… And Skippy." He waggled his antenna and burbled. She got down on a knee, eager to hear them out. "What's wrong, fellas?"

Leaning in towards Gracey, Jack whispered, "They look like giant roaches."

The aliens continued to chatter and squeak, slipping in random English here and there. "Plant… Big! Monsters!" They took her hands and ran forward, leading her to The Carousel of Progress.

On their way, they passed Buzz Lightyear's Space Ranger Spin. The sign, however, kept morphing, changing from its current name to If You Had Wings, then If You Could Fly… then Delta Dreamflight… just Dreamflight… Take Flight, and back again, like some mechanical glitch. The Wright Brothers' plane zoomed out and over the Representatives' heads.

Cinderella gasped. "It's like the old rides are fighting to come back."

Stitch and Skippy wouldn't allow the trio time to ponder this, though, instead dragging them towards The Carousel of Progress. When they got there, they found John and Sarah standing frozen and pale in front of their home. Cinderella, Jack, and George's expressions soon matched the couple's. All they could do was stare in awe at the building now covered in vines, lashing tentacles, and snapping green mouths.

"Sarah, dear," John gulped, "did you overwater the ferns?"

She slowly shook her head, unable to come up with a snappy retort. "That…" She pointed at one of the tentacles. "That was what got Jimmy and Patty."

All of them turned and ran to the Arcade. The doors and front windows had been smashed apart, leaving huge shards of glass and jagged metal scattered across the walkway. Store shelves had been tossed aside, merchandise destroyed, and machines broken. Sparks fizzed up from video games and ripped power cords. In the center of it all was a huge, gaping hole. Looking in, they could see a tunnel. It stretched out of the store with no clear end in sight.

Jack Sparrow crouched down and picked up a leaf and a bit of shoestring left at the pit's edge. Long, deep, flat marks, punctuated with hand and foot prints, led into the passageway. "That's interesting." He stood up, took out his sword, and pointed it at the tunnel. "Obviously, the great beastie kidnapped your younglings and dragged them off into the depths of the earth." He fingered his belt, twitched his lips, and jumped into the pit. "Onward then."

John and Sarah quickly followed suit.

"Wait!" Cinderella held out a hand. "It's pitch black in there. You won't be able to see a thing. At least let me get some torches."

"Fine," Jack conceded. "But be quick about it, lass. No telling how far the monster's gotten. Time is of the essence." He sniffed. "Smells like fertilizer in here. It's a well fed plant, so hopefully it's not munching on your offspring."

Sarah pulled back an arm to hit him, but John held her back.

"George," Cinderella turned to Gracey. "I need someone I can trust to stay here and let the others know where I've gone."

Flabbergasted, he looked from the waiting group back to her. "Princess, it's dangerous!"

"I know," she smiled. "But my people are counting on me. I'll be back in five minutes with supplies. It's just a quick trip to Main Street's sword making shop, and flashlights are abundant in the maintenance closets. Skippy and Stitch can keep watch over the hole."

The ghost put a hand to his chest. "And what am I to do? Being dead doesn't automatically make me useless."

"No," she put a hand on his shoulder. "It makes you an extremely valuable asset. Consult with Madame Leota. She might drum up some clues we can use. Wish us luck." With that farewell, she was off for Main Street.

"Easy sailing, Georgie boy," Jack tipped his hat to him. "Contrary to previous disagreements, I must say you're not so bad… for a dead man." He grinned.

George returned the smile. "And you're not quite the cowardly, self-centered scoundrel I mistook you for, Captain." He bowed before vanishing.

Seconds later, the ghost materialized outside of The Haunted Mansion. He was taken aback when he saw a new attachment to his home-a glowing square building half the height of the mansion. Above its doorway was a large sign that read in curling bat and skull decorated letters, "Museum of the Weird."

"That… certainly is peculiar." He decided to leave it unexplored, however, until he met with Leota. She'd probably have an explanation, anyway.

The level of bizarre was kicked up a notch when he stepped inside the house. Expecting stillness, he was greeted with a cacophony of shrieks and screams and laughter. Ghosts he'd never seen before were running about, chasing decapitated heads and severed limbs, flying around the ceiling, and opening and closing hidden panels. Two huge, hairy arms reached through a trick opening in the wall and tried to grab his neck. George swatted at them until they withdrew.

"What, are you all barbarians? What is going on here?"

"Oh, heh-hee, they're just… _excited_, sir, heh-heh."

George looked around, but couldn't find the source of the voice. "And what the devil is Peter Lorre doing in my house?"

"Who?" The voice was a perfect imitation of the actor. "I'm the Lonesome Ghost, heh-heh, your friendly ghost guide. You're just in time for the wedding, sir. Are you with the bride or the _gloom_—er, groom?"

"Wedding? What wedding? And if there's any ghost guide around here, it's me! Is this Constance's doing?"

"Constance? I'm afraid I don't know the dear lady, heh-heh. Is she related to the Blood family?"

"Considering all of the in-laws she's gained over the years, who knows?" George pushed past, ignoring chatter about a wedding and celebrity guests. An all too familiar looking vampire "blah!"ed in shock when George stomped through him, making him spill a glass of blood. Next to him, the half-mask wearing Phantom clicked his tongue in disapproval at the Ghost Host's behavior and offered a handkerchief.

He didn't mind the ghosts throwing parties; after all, he was game for any swinging wake. However, he was perturbed by the dozens of total strangers in his home, especially those he was sure were infringing on copyrights. Despite his confusion, it was all familiar in a way, like a memory of a dream, or an early childhood recollection where only fragments could be snagged. This was all getting too bizarre, even for his liking.

From the main hall, he heard someone weakly shouting his name. He ran to the source, finding the coffin ghoul, jiggling the casket's nailed top as he usually did.

"Oh, man," the zombie rasped. "Boy, am I glad to see you! Well, part of you. Lid blocks most of your face." He grunted, giving another shove, and then gave up the endeavor. "Things have been going on out there, man. Stuff that's weird, wild, and freaky!"

"You heard the pandemonium in the foyer?"

"No, in the séance parlor."

George's breath hitched and he stiffened. "What happened?"

"No idea. Heard glass shattering. Shouldn't be out of the usual 'round here, but it gave me the heebie-jeebies. I hope Miss Leota isn't in trouble."

George was already dashing away. His worst fears were confirmed when he stepped into Leota's chamber. There was no sign of the psychic, her glowing, green form gone. Chunks of curved glass littered the table. Candles had been knocked over and tarot cards were scattered. The spell book had been thrown off its stand and now laid face down on the floor. All of the floating instruments were blaring off key notes, adding their own chaos to the scene.

Picking up pieces of the crystal ball, he started to quietly cry. "Oh, dear, sweet Leota…" He didn't wipe away the tears, letting them flow freely. Even the instruments went quiet as if ashamed of their behavior. "You were always my best friend, my greatest confidant." His frown twisted into a snarl. "Whoever did this shall pay. I'll see they hang!" he pounded a fist down on the little tabletop, making the rest of the fragments bounce.

A pained wheeze shoved its way into the darkness. "The coward's way. He chose a coward's way."

"Leota?" He looked at her chair, expecting to see her sitting there.

There was a figure now seated on the cushions, but it wasn't Madame Leota. Instead, a pasty, bone-thin old woman was at the table, vaguely waving her gnarled hands in the air. Her glazed over, pale gray eyes followed something only she could see on the ceiling. "Coward's way, coward's way," she intoned again, slowly weaving from left to right. "He chose a coward's way."

"Who did?" George leaned down, trying to look into her eyes. "What coward?"

She didn't even notice him. "Coward's way… Coward's way…"

Frightened for his friend and frustrated beyond proper social conduct, he gripped her shoulders and shook her. "What are you rambling on about, woman? What coward? Who!"

Above him a new voice croaked, "You'll get no help from Madame Z. She's mad from visions and blind to thee. If you'd like clues, just talk to me."

George looked above Madame Z's cowled head at the back of her chair.

Sitting atop it was a red-eyed raven. It had always been there, but he couldn't recall it ever talking. "He came up from behind, that nasty fiend, and smashed her 'fore she could even scream." The bird's voice was somewhat like Leota's if she had laryngitis. "Then whisked her away to a world of dreams deferred, so sayeth I, the guiding bird."

"Who was this monster? Where is he?"

"His name isn't known to me, for he was gone before I came to be. I'd try the attic for some hints. More clues will be your recompense. Others appeared from his land of limbo, including discarded spooks and a bride who's a bimbo."

The "bimbo" note was a little mean, but George wasn't about to look a gift bird in the mouth. "Then it's off to the attic I must flee. Thank you, bird. You were a great help… to me." He smirked, his mood lighter with the confidence he could rescue his friend.

Children had been snatched, and now a ghost was spirited away. When the dead had to fear for their (non)lives, the night had become very dangerous indeed.

O.o

Since Wendell had volunteered to tell the Tiki Room birds, pirates, and other Adventureland natives what was going on, Henry ambled alone through Frontierland. The bear had already visited his beloved Grizzly Hall and was now on his way to Splash Mountain. The closer he got, the brighter the scenery became. It was as if two dozen street lights had all been pushed into the far end of Frontierland and lit with mega-watt bulbs. It was getting louder, too, with hollers, gun shots, and inauthentic Native American war cries coming from Big Thunder Mountain Railroad. A train whistle punctuated the racket, but that noise was normal. The other stuff was disconcerting. Henry had never heard it coming from the rollercoaster before.

"Now what in tarnation is all this flim-flam?"

The right half of the mountain was bathed in the glow coming off of a whole other new peak connected to it. It was double the size of Big Thunder, with boxy boats traversing a river that wound around and through it. Humans, including Native Americans, cowboys, and people in all styles of Wild West attire, were scattered around the rocky hills. Some were fighting, others were dancing, and a group of bandits were even trying to rob a bank. There were also farm animals and horses being terrorized by rattle snakes and coyotes.

A sign shimmered into being on the closest directions post. Underneath "Big Thunder Mountain Railroad" appeared "The Western River Expedition."

Henry pushed his claws under his top hat and scratched his head. "Now that don't make a lick-a sense. Western River Expedition got cancelled decades ago." He remembered that, for a while, the enormous would-be attraction had even been listed on park maps until it'd been given the axe. This was due to a mix of reasons, including budget cuts, changes in social awareness, and a demand from guests for the pirate ride that was so popular in California. He scrunched his muzzle in confusion. "This whole mess just keeps getting' weirder and weirder."

In his out-loud musings, he didn't hear the jangles of spurs and sneaky boot-steps behind him. By the time his ear twitched at a faint squeak, a lasso was already sailing over him. He jerked, his arms pinned to his sides with rope. "Hey!" Another hoop dropped down around his neck and tightened, making him gasp and choke.

The cowboy who'd thrown the first lariat tugged hard, trying to pull Henry to the ground. "Looks like we caught us an escaped circus bear! Look at his silly hat!" He laughed, and the rest of his posse joined him.

"Aww," cooed the one who'd tossed the neck noose. "He thinks he's people. Want to try to talk, li'l' feller?" He gave a sharp pull and Henry saw stars. Tongue lolling out and gasping, the bear tore at the ropes.

That was when three new figures stepped up behind the gang. The biggest bounced the end of a hand, or rather, paw-carved club on his palm. The one in the middle curled his lips back, revealing glistening fangs. The smallest of the trio simply grinned and jumped up on the head of the first cowboy, tapping out a fast rhythm with his oversized feet. Right before he would've been grabbed, he sprang onto the head of the second cowboy, laughing at his own mischief. He shoved down the hunter's hat, making him let go of his rope. Then he was bounding again, a brown blur making the cowboys dive into one another in their efforts to catch him.

Henry twisted around, got free, and smiled at his rescuers. Br'er Bear was swinging his club, scaring off a few of the humans, while Br'er Fox snapped his jaws at the others who weren't getting the hint. With Henry's help, they rounded up the remaining men and tied them up with their own ropes.

Br'er Rabbit settled on the sign post, casually leaning against the pole, hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Tch, tch!" his clicked his tongue against his buck teeth. "Where on Earth did y'all learn such bad manners? That ain't how we treat folks, 'round here. Isn't that right, Br'er Bear?"

Br'er Bear growled. "Dat's right. You need to learn how to be more neighborly," he drawled.

"You know what might be a good lesson, Br'er Bear?" Br'er Fox turned to his partner in crime, all of his fangs showing in a huge, hungry grin. "I say we… hang 'em!"

"Nuh-uh," Br'er Bear shook his head. "I say we knock their heads clean off." He waggled his club.

"Skin 'em." The fox licked his lips. "Right before we roast 'em."

Henry stepped forward, feeling a bit of pity as the cowboys trembled. "Now boys, we're not some blood thirsty wild animals…" He dusted off his hat and put it back on.

Br'er Fox looked up in surprise. "We're not? Since when? _I'm _a blood thirsty wild animal," he thumbed his chest. "A mighty hungry blood thirsty wild animal." He turned back to the gang. "I could sure go for some thigh meat with ribs on the side. Maybe some fried tongue for dessert." He leaned in close to one of the men, and the cowboy let out a girlish squeal.

Two buzzards in undertaker garb started circling overhead. "Don't forget to pluck out the eyes for us," one hissed. "And we're quite fond of dead man's toes," quipped the other. "Dead man's toes! Dead man's toes!" they sang and cackled.

With a proud sniff, Br'er Rabbit thumbed his pink shirt collar. "I knows what we should do! Let's flings 'em in the briar patch."

Br'er Bear scratched his head with his club. "Briar patch?"

Cutting his eyes over at the rabbit, Br'er Fox shot him a fierce, suspicious glare. "Is this one of your tricks?"

"Me, trickin' you?" Br'er Rabbit feigned shocked. "Br'er Fox, you're far too clever for that and you know it! Why, I was suggestin' it because it'd do all the work fo' you. Them thorns would slice 'em real good, sure enough. It'd even give you some nice shish-ka-bobs, and that's real fancy digs right there." He winked at Henry.

Completely oblivious to the quick gesture, the fox licked his lips. His mouth watered at the thought of tasty shish-ka-bobs. "Sounds like a good plan to me. Come on, Br'er Bear," he flung his skinny arm forward and led the way.

Br'er Bear grabbed the end of the rope, dragging the men behind him like a child with a tug along toy. He knit his big brow together in deep concentration. "I still say we should knock their heads clean off."

When the duo was out of hearing range, Henry turned to Br'er Rabbit. "Will they be okay?"

He clicked his tongue twice. "The most they'll get are some scratches, but they'll be fine. Ain't no place safer than my briar patch. My kin'll help 'em get away before that fox figures out they're gone." His buck teeth glinted in the moonlight when he grinned. "Of course, after what they did to you, I don't think I'd mind so much if Br'er Fox got his meal."

"Now, now, you know that's not how we do things," Henry playfully chided. "No one was seriously hurt and that's what matters." He rubbed his still sore neck. "Though I can't thank you enough. You fellers got here just in the nick of time."

"We keep an eye on our own, 'specially when things start gettin' strange." Br'er Rabbit grew quiet, stroking his chin in thought and balancing on his left foot while he scratched his ear with his right. "And that place over there sure is mighty peculiar. Where do you 'spose it come from, Henry?"

The bear shrugged. "I don't rightly know, Br'er Rabbit." For almost a minute, he stared at The Western River Expedition mini mountain range. Another empty boat splashed down a short flume before disappearing into a cave. Those cowboys had definitely come from there; Pecos Bill and his friends had never tried to hurt any of the Frontierland critters. "Y'know, it's almost like seeing a ghost…" He wrinkled his nose. "A ghost of something that didn't really die… because it never really lived."

"_Tch tch!_ Sounds like one of Old Scratch's riddles. Never really cared for riddles myself. Everyone always expects there to be just _one _answer. If you don't have more than one way to get out of a problem, then you're in deep trouble."

From within the briar patch, howls of pain pierced the night, punctuated by the tearing of branches and britches. "Now lookie here, Br'er Bear, you done got me stuck again—YOW-HOW-HOW!"

Henry chuckled. "Speakin' of trouble…"

Br'er Rabbit shook Henry's paw. "Yeah, I best be goin'. Those mangy critters will be out soon, lookin' to gobble me up." It was said with the most pleasant of tones, as if he looked forward to the chase. "I'll let everyone on Chick-a-Pin Hill know what's going on. If you need anything, Henry, just holler and I'll be there, lickity-split." Hands in his pockets, he casually hopped away, singing to himself and throwing in some whistles where he forgot the lyrics. _"Born and bred in a briar patch…"_

Before heading to Adventureland to meet back up with Wendell, Henry turned a full three-hundred and sixty degrees to make sure none of those cowboys were around.

O.o

George Gracey didn't duck when a bevy of bats flapped right through his face. They fluttered out a broken window. Some disoriented stragglers crashed into a pile of junk, which sent a tower of books and candelabras toppling. He couldn't move; he was frozen in bewilderment.

Between stacks of presents and wedding portraits, more stuff had appeared-dusty old props he could recall from the ride's past decades. Ugly, but familiar, faces sprang in and out of sight. These were the infamous pop-up ghosts who had once called the attic home. They resumed their old pranks as if nothing had ever changed. As startling as they could be, though, the pop-ups weren't what held Master Gracey in stunned silence.

At the other end of the attic, _three _ghostly brides, all of them with glowing red hearts showing through their white gowns, were arguing. Well, _two _were arguing. The third, whose face was shrouded completely in darkness save for a pair of yellow eyes, apparently didn't have a mouth, or simply didn't care to debate. She stood at the side, looking from one bride to the other as they shouted, wringing an unlit candle in her thin hands. The silent one, George remembered, had been there until the mid 1990s.

To her right, and doing the loudest shouting, was the third and previous attic bride. She was a young woman, with flowing white hair, and usually a benign disposition. She was also dark blue, but that was neither here nor there. Fans called her "Emily," and she had no qualms with that. Old fashioned, sure, but better than "No Face," like her predecessor.

The woman she was arguing with was a stranger… Or was she? True, she was a bride, complete with veil, and even had white hair like Emily, except it was stringy. Her face was hideous, though. Head practically a skull, her glowing sunken eyes barely illuminated the rotten flesh of her cheeks. It was all George could do to not recoil back in horror with an ungentlemanly "GAH!" at the sight of her. Gross as she was, there was something vaguely familiar about her. He tried to wrack his brain. Their appearance had to do with Leota's disappearance.

The Haunted Mansion's attic had gone through more changes than any other room in the house, yet guests knew a bride had _always _been there since opening day. The current resident, Constance, was part of that… constant. And of course, the piles of possessions had always been an element of that atmosphere, coated in cobwebs and dabbed with dust. Like the brides, the pop-up ghosts had gone through changes. New mechanics slowed them down when Emily was brought in, and they were given less scary faces and tattered tuxedoes in place of their white shrouds. They'd been there from opening day to until Constance moved in. And where had Constance run off to?

"I'm telling you," the decayed bride waved her bouquet in Emily's face, "this is my attic. I was here first!"

Emily shoved away the flowers, crossed her arms, and cocked her hip. "Well, _I _certainly don't remember you. Do _you_ remember this worm food?" She looked at the faceless bride, who snapped her gaze down at the candle wick and nervously picked at it.

Ah, now George remembered. The corpse-like bride had been the first to occupy Walt Disney World's Haunted Mansion. However, she was quickly replaced with the faceless beating heart bride, who in turn lost her place to Emily, who would soon be booted out in favor of Constance Hatchaway. But that still didn't answer some very important questions.

Striding forward, he made the dead women stop and look his way. "Stop your bickering at once, ladies. Tell me, what's going on? Where is Madame Leota?"

Emily snorted. "Don't know, don't care. I'm just happy to be back in _my_…" She shot a glare at the first bride. "… attic."

He shut his eyes tight and pinched the bridge of his nose. "What happened to Constance?"

"Oh." Emily twirled a lock of hair and jerked her chin towards the room's exit. "She ran out. This pirate appeared, waving around a cutlass and calling himself Captain Gore. Then he started laughing about chopping up his fiancée and stuffing her in a wall. Well, that apparently set her off."

"Another husband for her collection?"

"No… She took off after him, swinging her hatchet and yelling, 'You like chopping up pretty little girls, huh?'" Emily raised her own arms, pretending to wield an axe. "'Wait 'till you see _my _hobby!'" She dropped her arms and shrugged. "Even gold digging murderesses…es…murderettes…killers have their standards, I suppose."

Flinging up his hands in exasperation, George moaned, "I've never even heard of this pirate. And I'm not any closer to discovering where Leota is. The bird said I'd find clues here." Suddenly he stopped. Then he blinked. "Of course. All of you are clues, all of you who were once here and later removed. The pirate and the Museum of the Weird were never part of the mansion, though." He furrowed his brow. "What if… But what if they were _meant to be _at some point?"

As the others watched, fascinated and confused, he paced back and forth. "I remember… Long ago… That raven was going to be another host, which is why he's in almost every room. The idea was scrapped late in the process, right around the time I was created." With a snap of his fingers, he straightened up. "That's what the bird meant when he said 'before his time.' The monster that stole Leota never lasted beyond the ride's planning process. He doesn't know him, I don't know him, and you don't know him," he pointed at the brides, who were by now slowly starting to back away. "He was merely a concept, like Captain Gore and the Museum."

The corpse bride curled her discolored lip. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Perhaps." George tapped the tips of his fingers together. "However, if we discover what brought you back, I believe we'll be on our way to finding the Madame and the monster."

O.o

A/N: I wanted to give Imagineer Ken Anderson a tribute with this chapter since I feel he doesn't always get the recognition he deserves for his work on the Haunted Mansion. That might sound sweet, but I didn't realize how much research that would actually entail. In his (excellent) book, _The Haunted Mansion: From the Magic Kingdom to the Movies_, ex- Imagineer Jason Surrell covers only a tiny portion of the concepts Anderson came up with for the ride. So for a while, I was trying to scramble bits and pieces of incomplete info together. I have several Disney park books at my disposal, but my greatest reference aid has always been my dear Werecat Boy. Once again, he came shining through and pulled up so many fantastic articles and pieces of concept art to share with me. Thanks to him, not only did I get in my tribute, but more ideas got added and this chapter is a few pages longer than it was originally going to be.

Long note short: Go read Werecat Boy's stuff. It's fantastic and he knows his Disney lore inside and out.


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